Magic's Slave
by Oliversgurl
Summary: When Anders is bought from the Templar by young Thomais he feels as if his world has been turned upside down. With love in an unlikely place and a commander looking to free The mages from the slavery of the Chantry, will he find his place? AU
1. Prologue

An armored hand rattled the chain attached to the collar around his neck. "You're being taken somewhere today Mage. Someone took pity on your Maker cursed soul and wants you on healing duty at Vigil's keep."

A sigh was the only response from the hunched figure.

"I'm talking to you Mage." A jerk on the chain. "You listen when your betters are speaking!" There was an ugly laugh. "Maybe I'll let the boys get a sample before the Commander of the Grey turns you into another pampered Pet."

A whimper this time, followed by vigorous head shaking, the sound of the clanking chain almost musical.

The Templar threw his head back and laughed, before motioning to the others. "You see this, boys? This Maker's curse thinks he has a choice in what's done to him"

Another whimper and shake.

"Giving in now won't save your arse Anders. My boys need a little "fun" before they give you away."

Anders whimpered again as the men closed in on him. His only thought was that he was glad to be getting away from the Templar. Whatever this commander of the Grey was like he could never be as bad as being with the Templar.

When they were through with him, he curled into a ball on the ground where they'd left him. He knew that his previous escape attempts had brought on this treatment, and that once at the Keep he would be safe. Well… safer. _Just a few more days…_ He thought to himself. _A few more days and I won't ever have to see another Templar ever again._

One of the Templar shifted in his tent and Anders shivered, hoping they wouldn't wake. He turned his head to the sky. "Please Maker. Andraste… if you're real, and you care for all creation like the Chantry says, please turn your eyes this way. Send me to a place where I'll be safe." He whispered.

He lay back down and tried desperately to get some sleep before the morning.


	2. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is a full list of what you will find in this story. The version here and on will be the same until I reach the naughty scenes. Abuse, Angst, AU, Bigotry, Slavery, humiliation, bad Language, M/M, some non-con, Romance, Violence, and this is definitely a WIP. I would like to be able to post one chapter a week. Usually on Sundays.

* * *

Nathaniel Howe was not happy. "Thomais, I don't understand why we need a slave of all things to take care of our wounded. Surely there are some herbalists somewhere…"

Thomais cut him off with a gesture. "I'm not just doing this for us you know. From what Zevran reported back to me, it seems like this one was the worse treated out of the lot. And believe me; I know what it's like to be mistreated by shems."

Nathaniel opened his mouth as if to protest and then wisely decided to acquiesce. "If you say so Commander. I still don't think it's necessary, and you have more than enough to deal with here without trying to rescue every sad case that you come across."

Thomais quirked an eyebrow. "Like you, you mean?"

Nathaniel winced. "That's exactly what I mean Commander. Not that I don't appreciate you giving me a chance when no one else would."

Thomais chuckled. "Don't worry. Giving people second chances is what I do. You heard what happened with Loghain correct?"

Nathaniel nodded. "And he redeemed himself at the top of Fort Drakon. You… gave him the chance to be a hero again. Despite what he did to the Wardens… to your family in the Alienage." Nathaniel sighed. "I can only hope I'll be as worthy of you as he was."

Thomais gave him a crooked grin. "You already are. Twice over at least."

Nathaniel blinked, startled. "If you say so Commander. But I still feel I have to work harder to prove myself."

Thomais rolled his eyes and gave a little chuckle. "Just be constructive. And when the Mage arrives… make sure he's taken care of, would you?" Thomais turned and headed out of the main hall to look for Zevran.

Nathaniel glowered. He still didn't want to have anything to do with the mage, but if that's what his responsibilities were for now… Then he would follow his Commander's orders. Pleasant or not.

He heard them long before he saw them. The Templar rode in on Chargers of all colors and when he saw them slow to a trot he realized that the tow headed mage was not on a horse. The mage was being pulled along on a length of chain attached to a collar and wearing clothes Elves in the Alienage would have burned.

Nathaniel saw red. No one, no being deserved to be treated like that. Face a thundercloud he stalked towards the group of laughing men. "Excuse me, Ser Templar. I've been charged by the Commander to take the Mage into my custody."

The leader of the group laughed and tossed him the end of the chain. "Here, he's all yours. Time to go back to the Tower, boys. I think Jowan is starting to miss us." He laughed again and then dug his heels into the poor horse's flanks and took off with the others close behind.

Nathaniel dropped the chain like it was a snake and hurried over to the blonde to take it off. "Alright you. What's your name?" He asked as he tilted the mage's chin up so he could undo the chain.

"Anders. Ser." The voice was quiet, near non existent and hazel eyes were half lidded and doing their best to not stare from underneath a fringe of hair.

Nathaniel gave the mage an obscure look before he pulled the other man's arm about his shoulders. "Come on then, Anders. We're going to get you cleaned up and in some proper robes."

Anders merely did as he was told, used to following orders for so long, the only ones he thought to resist were… he shuddered.

"Are you alright?" Nathaniel stopped what they were doing. "If you're cold, don't worry, we'll have you in warmer clothes in no time. And if you're worried about… treatment… You'll be treated well here. If I knew who to report those men to I would. No one deserves to be treated like you have. No one."

Anders looked over at him in surprise, but quickly remembering himself, he lowered his gaze again, and murmured what he'd been told over and over again by the Templar. "It's no less than we deserve Ser. We're dangerous. A menace." There was a bitter, self mocking tone to his voice.

Nathaniel surprised himself with his next words, "What you deserve is a chance. Yes, some mages go mad and hurt people. But I'm sure the majority would be willing…" he trailed off. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't talk about such things around you."

Anders stared at him in surprise, "About what? About freedom? About something I'll never be able to enjoy? That doesn't matter." The arm that was around Nathaniel's shoulders twitched and the hand grasped his shoulder, "Please. Keep talking. You're the first to do so who hasn't… treated me like a toy."

Nathaniel nodded as they kept walking. "Well… was there anything you'd like to know about Vigil? About the commander? I'm at a bit of a loss here."

Anders contemplated the questions for a minute before he risked another glance from under his bangs. "What about the Commander? We don't… no one tells us anything in the tower."

Nathaniel sighed. "There was a Blight. Not too long ago actually. The Commander stopped it. I'm sure the names won't mean that much to you, but when Teyrn Loghain left King Cailan to die, two Grey Wardens survived and made their way around Ferelden to gain support. When they finally reached the capital the Commander chose to place Maric's bastard son, Alistair, on the throne-"

"Wait. Alistair, the Templar in Training Alistair?" Anders interrupted and then cringed, as if expecting to be struck.

Nathaniel nodded. "That's him. You… knew him?" Nathaniel expected the worst and so was unprepared with the next words from Anders.

Anders actually laughed. "All of the mages knew him. He was… kind to us. Like Carroll. He never mistreated us, and sometimes gave the younglings sweets and talked with some of the other boys, helping them when the other Templar… Never mind. Go on, please. I'd like to hear more."

Nathaniel mulled over that a minute before continuing. "Anyway, when he chose to do that, he also decided to spare Loghain's life and make him a Warden. Alistair was furious. They haven't spoken much since, I gather. But, after all that, it turns out to stop a Blight, one of the Wardens had to die. Loghain sacrificed himself and reclaimed his honor. And now the Commander is dealing with the rogue bands that plague the Countryside."

Anders nodded, though he understood only about half of what Nathaniel said. "And the Commander himself?"

"You'll see. He'll see that you're well treated. His family was not treated well either." Nathaniel sighed; they'd almost reached the communal baths. "Look. I'm going to leave you in here a minute to get washed. I'll be right back, I need to find you some robes and then some food before I take you to the commander." He eyed the bruises on the other man's back. "And some healing. I don't want the Commander seeing you like this. He might decide to wage war on the Chantry and that wouldn't get us anywhere."

Anders nodded absently and then picked up what seemed like the only bar of soap in the room. It smelled of flowers and was softer than the harshly made soaps the Templar made them use back at the Tower. Not that he wanted to smell feminine, but at least he would really be clean for the first time in years… _And maybe if I scrub hard enough I can get the feeling of **them** off of me…_

He sank into the blissful embrace of the hot water and started scrubbing, watching years of dirt, grime, and Templar abuse dissolving into the water.

As he scrubbed and rinsed over and over again, he didn't hear Nathaniel return. The rogue's boots were quiet on the stone and he merely stood in the doorway and watched. When Anders finished dunking himself to rinse out his hair again, he caught sight of Nathaniel leaning in the doorway with an obscure look on his face. Thinking he'd done something wrong, he regretfully got out of the tub and sat, knees on the floor, body supported by his legs. "I'm sorry I took so long." His tone was emotionless, but with a hint of rebellion to it.

"Oh do stand up Mage." Nathaniel fought the urge to roll his eyes. "You're allowed to bathe as long, and as often, as you please."

Anders slowly stood, not quite trusting. The Templar had told him that a time or two as well, though their promises only held true if they could use him, and when he fought…

Nathaniel saw the darkening look on the mage's face and hurriedly held out a robe. "Here. This was salvaged from a Dalish camp that had been attacked by Darkspawn. It looks big enough to fit you, scrawny as you are. When you start to put on weight though we'll have to see about getting you new things."

Anders stared, "New… things?" He shook his head; coming to Vigil was almost like being freed. "I don't… I'm a slave, Ser. I don't get new things." The tone of his voice suggested that Nathaniel was a simpleton.

Nathaniel frowned. "You will now. Now hurry up and put these on. And use this to fix your hair." He held out a comb and a hair tie. "The Commander is eager to see you." Then Nathaniel seemed to realize that Anders was standing naked in front of him. He flushed and turned his back.

Anders stared in amazement as he held the items that had been thrust into his arms. His eyes flickered down at the clothes, and then down past them where a bucket of washrags sat at his feet. It would be so easy, to pick it up and knock out the man standing in front of him. Then he could escape. Again. _But the Templar would find you if you ran away. And despite the collar, it seems like these people are genuinely looking out for me… I'll stay. For now._ He dressed himself slowly, and when he was finished with his hair, he tapped Nathaniel on the shoulder and cleared his throat.

Nathaniel turned back around, accepting the comb, and tilted his head at the expression on the other's face. "What?"

"It's a bad idea to turn your back to a slave, Ser. Most would do anything to insure their freedom." That bitter, self mocking tone was back in his voice.

Nathaniel raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Only someone with Templar training can take that collar off." He said quietly, "You would only be caught, and beaten worse than before. You won't run. At least, not now."

Anders said nothing this time and dropped his gaze again.

"Come on then, follow me. Thomais is getting impatient." Nathaniel grumbled, "I do wish that lover of his would return soon. The commander gets cranky when that assassin isn't around…"

After a brief stop in the kitchens, in which Nathaniel had to nearly threaten Anders to get the mage to eat the sandwich, they arrived in the private study that Thomais used to entertain meetings with the other wardens.

"Nathaniel, let me talk to him alone." Thomais was seated at a desk working on something.

Nathaniel nodded and ducked out, leaving Anders alone with the Commander.

Thomais looked up and gave a warm smile, "Please. Don't stand about like that, it makes me very nervous. So, you're Anders."

Anders sat, looking startled that this man knew his name. "I… yes Ser."

"Please relax." The young man almost pleaded, "I'm still not used to all the pomp and ceremony and bowing and scraping that my position obliges people to do for me." He tucked his hair behind his ear, and then gestured at it, "As you can tell, I used to be the one bowing and scraping. Not that I was any good at it." He laughed and then gave Anders a shrewd look. "I don't think you're very good at it either."

Anders remained silent, and stared at Thomais as if trying to figure him out.

"I'll bet you're wondering why you're here…" Thomais raised an eyebrow.

"It's not a slave's place to wonder why he is anywhere, Ser." Anders said quietly, bitterly.

"Bollocks. You are wondering, and it's only human… or Elven, to wonder why you've suddenly been thrown into the lap of luxury." Thomais barked out a laugh.

Anders let out a soft laugh, "I keep wondering when you're going to turn me back over to the Tower."

Thomais steepled his hands together, "I'm not. But I do want some information from you."

Anders sighed and slumped. So it was to be torture. "Yes, Ser."

"Stop that." Thomais said irritably. "All I want to know is the names of those who're are being treated the worst. I'm trying something new. I helped out the Alienage but that's not all I can do with the power I have now." He rubbed his forehead. "In my travels I managed to find the ashes of Andraste. A mage was with me by the name of Wynne. She was proven just as worthy as the rest of us to enter. I want the mages freed." He slammed a fist down on his desk, "Alistair is still angry at me, but maybe… just maybe we can do something about all of this." He gestured to Anders.

Anders sat very still, appreciation growing within him. "Wynne…" he said softly. "I remember her. They sent her to the battle. They told us she was dead. She's alive? Do you know…?" He shook his head and frowned. "Never mind. But, perhaps you can rescue Amell, Surana, and Jowan next." He said quietly. "They weren't treated nearly as bad as I… but with me gone, the Templar are going to turn to Jowan for… entertainment."

Thomais sagged with relief. "Good. Good. Three more people I can get out of that living Hell." Then he straightened. "I want you to go through the Grey Wardens' Joining ritual without delay. It may not be able to free you, and we can't let anyone know, given that this is something I'm not allowed to do. But… this could give us some leverage later on." He tapped his chin, "Nathaniel can give you lessons in using weapons and even _with_ your magic suppressed you can still help us." He grinned. "Welcome to the team."

Anders nodded, rather bewildered, and allowed himself to be led over to a small corner of the room where a goblet sat.

"Here. From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden. Drink." Thomais intoned formally.

Anders took the goblet in his shaking hands and took a long swallow. The liquid burned like fire down his throat and he choked. He couldn't breathe and the last thought to flicker through his mind before he passed out was _I should have known better…_


	3. Chapter 2

I forgot my disclaimer. Ooops. Well, the boys don't belong to me they belong to Bioware. I'm sure you can see why xD

* * *

Anders woke with a start, patting himself down as if to make sure he was still in one piece.

A sardonic voice from the side spoke to him. "Yes, because selling body parts brings a steady income."

Anders blinked and focused his eyes where he heard the voice. It was dark in the room, or mostly. Moonlight filtered in from a window and he could just make out the dark haired man from before, sitting in a chair off to his right. "I'm still alive." He said tilting his head to the side.

"Yes, and you're still at the Vigil. And you're in _my_ bed." The man grumped. "But the commander told me to put you here until you awoke. So here you are and now you're awake, and we can go find you a bedroom of your very own." Nathaniel stood and stretched the muscles that had started to cramp from his bedside vigil.

A knock at the door had him swearing underneath his breath. "I'm coming. Maker's breath, have some patience." He opened the door and glowered out into Zevran's face. "Oh, it's you. What do you want?"

Zevran grinned. "A little message from our esteemed Commander. Seems the Mage is now your responsibility. He just signed over the papers he purchased from that Rylok lady directly to you."

Nathaniel blinked. Once. Twice. "WHAT?"

Zevran shrugged. "If you don't want him I'm sure that Templar lady would be _happy_ to take him back."

Nathaniel looked back over his shoulder when he heard the whimper and then turned back to Zevran. "I've never… I don't want… Maker's breath. Fine. Fine. If it keeps him out of the hands of those monsters, then fine." He grumbled under his breath. "Don't know what _I'm_ going to do with him though…"

Zevran winked at him. "I'm sure you'll be able to think of something." The Antivan laughed and then waved as he walked away.

Nathaniel frowned. "What does he…" A look of horror flitted across his face. "After what's happened to him? Zevran, you bastard." Then he sighed and turned around. "Alright mage… Anders. What would you like to do first?" He asked as he rubbed his forehead. "Eat or find yourself a room?"

Anders simply looked at him quizzically and bowed his head. "If you are the one who owns me, am I not to stay in here? I wouldn't take up much room on the floor, Ser."

Nathaniel resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall in frustration. "My name is Nathaniel and no. You are not staying in my chambers. You will have your own, and if you feel a desperate need to see me, you know where to find me." He sighed. "I don't know what the Commander was thinking, but, you're free to do whatever you want." Then he paused, "Unless it includes leaving or hurting anyone here." He amended. "You're free as long as you don't do anything stupid." He quirked an eyebrow. "Can you do that?"

Anders pulled himself from the bed and nodded. "Then I want another bath. Can you show me where they are from here?"

Nathaniel pointed. "You go down that hall and make a left. It's the second door on the right. The first door is the women's bath, so unless you have a death wish, don't go in there." He flushed.

Anders stared at him, surprised, and let out a little snicker before he rushed from the room, trying to make it to the baths before Nathaniel changed his mind about leaving him unsupervised.

Nathaniel groaned. "This is going to be a long night…"

Anders slipped into the warmth of the baths with a sigh and just let himself relax for the first time in a very long time only to be startled by the sound of the door slamming open. He shrank back into the tub, thinking someone was coming after him when he saw... He blinked and stared. The person was very… short. And was swinging a bottle of something around.

The man took a swig from the bottle and Anders cringed as he saw some of it dribble down into the great flaming red beard. "So you're the new recruit," He said with a laugh. "Name's Oghren!"

Anders retreated a bit farther. "Er… my name is Anders."

Oghren settled himself into the very spacious tub and then grinned. "Bet you don't know what I am huh? Though I learned a lot about you mages from Wynne."

Anders seized on that. "Wynne? You… you were one of her traveling companions too? What happened? Where is she?" Then he stopped, because old habits die hard.

"As near as I can remember Alistair took that fancy collar off of her and let her go." He chuckled. "I'm surprised the old lady didn't head back to the tower and rain fire on those blighters." Then he belched. "I bet you're wondering what I am huh boy? The old lady didn't know what I was either. Those blighters at the Tower didn't teach you anything, did they?"

Anders felt strangely at ease and decided to be honest. "Oh, they taught us the important things, Ser. Like how to bow and scrape and perform whatever services our Masters required of us. Beating and using us when we didn't comply in the manner they wanted." He snorted. "And sometimes using us even when we did exactly what they wanted of us. Any hint of rebellion, imagined or not, was punished." He spread his arms to show some of the scars he'd "acquired." "So you can imagine what they did to me each of the seven times I tried to escape, and sometimes succeeded."

"By the Stone. They treat you mages worse than the casteless!" Oghren was a little stupefied. "The old lady never mentioned anything like this."

"Casteless?"

"Oh. Right." Another belch. "I'm a Dwarf. We separate our people out into groups. The nobles, commoners, and Casteless. And then you have people like me who spend time on the surface. We're surface caste. Not even welcome back home."

Anders nodded. Oghren seemed willing to talk to him. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to find out more. "What do you… know about Nathaniel? The Commander signed my papers over to him. And he _seems_ nice."

"Howe's little blighter, you mean?" Oghren scratched his head, "Well I don't know much about him save he's nothing like his Father. His father killed a very important family a year or so back and we learned that even before the massacre he was the kind of man to kick puppies." Oghren snorted, "Took care o' him though."

Anders thought about that. "So… he's a kind man. He won't… mistreat me?"

Oghren stared at him. "You need to get out of that kinda thinkin' boy. Within the walls of the Keep you're a free man. Commander's orders. And no one crosses the Commander. Not unless they want one of Zevran's knives in their gut."

"He'd really do something like that?"

Oghren chuckled. "Sneaky bastard _is_ an assassin."

Anders' brow furrowed. Nathaniel had mentioned an assassin, too. He had also mentioned that he was the commander's... He blinked. "Is the Commander… involved with this Zevran person?"

Oghren howled with laughter. "Yeah. The Commander and Zevran have been sharing a tent since before they picked me up from Orzammar. The Commander's in love with him or something like that. Can't imagine why. The Elf tried to kill him, or so I heard."

Anders flushed. "The Templar lied to me then. They told me I was doubly cursed." He frowned. "So that's accepted out here? They wouldn't kill me if they knew?"

"Kill you? By the tits of my ancestors, of course they wouldn't." Oghren laughed. "Just uh… stay away from me alright? I like women."

"I wouldn't dream of it… Oghren. You're like a helpful Uncle." Anders chuckled and slid deeper into the water. "How do they keep it warm? The bath I mean."

Oghren shrugged. "Something about pipes running all through the Vigil."

Anders nodded. "I'll ask… Nathaniel then." The he sighed and regretfully climbed out of the bath, dried, and then dressed. "I had probably better get back before they start looking for me."

Oghren raised the bottle in some sort of toast. "Don't forget to loosen up, boy." And slouched down into the water to continue drinking.

Anders made a small sound of affirmation and went looking for Nathaniel. He found the man still loitering around the hallway outside of his room.

"Ah. There you are mage. Come on, then. Your room is right over here." Nathaniel led him to a chamber a short distance away from his own. "It's close enough that you can come and get me if you need to and so I can hear if someone starts giving you a hard time." Nathaniel rationalized. "Not that I expect anyone here to really do that."

Anders nodded. "I'll go to sleep then, Ser. Thank you."

Nathaniel waved him off. "No thanks necessary. Remember that you're a free man here. And for Andraste's sake, please use my name."

Anders nodded again and stepped into his room, letting Nathaniel shut the door behind him.

To be fair, he tried to sleep on the bed. He really did. There was just something about the height that worried him, and so, a few hours later, he crept back down the hall and into Nathaniel's room, hoping the other man would just let him stay there on the floor.

When he shut the door, however, the click jolted the man on the bed awake. "What? Wha… Anders? What are you doing in here?"

"The bed, Ser. It's… too high. Can't I just sleep on the floor in here?" Anders sat himself on the small rug at the foot of the bed.

Nathaniel let out a groan. "No, you can't sleep on the floor. But if it will make you feel better… blast it. Here." He dragged himself from the warmth of his bed and pulled the mattress off of the frame and onto the floor. "Come here, mage." He settled himself back onto the mattress and slapped it once before rolling over and going back to sleep.

Anders stared at his back a moment before crawling over and snuggling into the covers, hoping that Nathaniel wouldn't force him out tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 3

Blahblahblah i still don't own the boys. -grumpy- Anyway, here they are again, with some fluff and a sweet new Character to fall in love with!

* * *

Anders woke to a peculiar feeling. He was warm underneath the blanket, yes. But the warmth was also heavy. He stared down at his chest into a mess of dark brown hair. He blinked, and then he recalled the night before, and that Nathaniel had slept with him on the floor. He smiled and felt a warm glow in his chest. "He's nicer than anyone's ever been to me…" Then he recalled that the noble was now his master and an awkward feeling replaced the glow, and he poked Nathaniel's shoulder. "Uhm. Ser? Please wake up…"

Nathaniel stirred and tightened his grip on Anders for a moment before he noticed where he was and leapt backwards from the mattress.

Anders stared curiously at the bright red blush on the man's face and tried to keep from laughing.

Nathaniel stared for a moment before he said, "You tell no one… no one what I was doing."

Anders raised an eyebrow. "I'm your slave, Ser. Remember? You're allowed to do whatever you want with me, and no one can say otherwise."

Several emotions flickered across Nathaniel's face before he let out a groan and bolted from the room.

Anders finally gave into his compulsion and burst into laughter. When he finally managed to control his laughing, he tidied up Nathaniel's room, placing the mattress back on the bed. When he was satisfied with his work, he left the room and headed off for a bath.

When he managed to pull himself away from the bath about an hour later, he went to look for Nathaniel. He was hungry. So very hungry. And while he was used to not eating, this was a different kind of hungry clawing at his belly. He wanted to know how much food he was allowed to eat.

When he couldn't find the other man after a few minutes of looking, he slunk to the kitchens and began raiding the larder. _There's so much food here… I'll just eat a little… they won't miss anything._

"Who's in there?" He heard a rather stern voice muffled by the door.

"Oh Maker." Anders dropped the food he was holding and shrank down into a corner. _I'm going to get beaten. They're going to send me back to the Tower. I should have looked harder for him. Oh Maker, please don't let them send me back._

The door opened and a rather stern looking grey haired man stepped inside. "Oh, it's you. What are you…?" He saw the food on the floor and sighed. "I'll be right back. I need to go get Nathaniel. Stay put."

Anders paled. "Please don't go get him! I know I should have asked him, but I was so hungry and I…" He shut his mouth with a click. Begging with the Templar only made the beatings worse.

The man stopped in the doorway. "Son, just stay put."

Anders cowered on the floor in the corner. _He's going to send me back. I just know it. I don't want to go back. I'm finally clean._ He was still whimpering in the same place when Nathaniel arrived with the other man.

The man pointed at him and said, "Look at him. I found him there, cowering in the corner! Nathaniel Howe, why didn't you tell him about the changes that come along with being one of the Wardens? Why didn't you tell him that an increase in appetite was to be expected and he is _encouraged_ to eat as much as he needs or wants whenever he wants to?" The man stood there and scolded Nathaniel for a few more minutes.

Nathaniel finally muttered a "Yes, Seneschal Varel," Before turning to Anders. "Come on then. Grab something and let's go. We have a lot to talk about."

Anders stared back and forth at them before climbing to his feet and grabbing a small hunk of bread and following. "You're… not going to send me back?" He directed his question at Varel.

"Of course not boy. You're one of us now." The gruff man actually smiled.

"Thank you…" Anders mumbled and followed Nathaniel closely, nibbling on his piece of bread. They'd only been walking for a few minutes before he spoke up again, "Did he… Did he tell me the truth? You aren't going to send me back because I stole some food?" Nathaniel continued to remain silent. Anders bit his lip. "You're not angry with me are you? I looked for you, but I couldn't find you and I was hungry and—"

"Anders. Stop talking. Varel was right. I should have told you the changes you'll be going through as a Warden." Nathaniel stopped and turned to face him. "You're one of us now. Remember that. No one is going to send you back there. One of these days I want you to tell me what they did to you, so I know how to avoid setting you off."

Anders stared at him with wide eyes. "Ser, you don't want to know what they did to me. _I_ don't want to know what they did to me but it's not likely I'll forget."

Nathaniel nodded. "I understand. But here, sit." They'd reached a dining hall and he pulled out a chair. "As a Warden your body is going to change. You've obviously noticed the increase in appetite." He stared pointedly at the bread and then continued. "The second thing you should know is that you've only got thirty years to live after the joining." Nathaniel's face took on a pained look. "You'll also start having nightmares soon. We can feel the Darkspawn. That goblet you drank out of was some of their blood. You're tainted, and the taint is what eventually kills you." Then he blushed. "It's also now nearly impossible for you to have children, if you so possessed the urge."

Anders snorted. "I can't say that last issue will be much of a drawback for me," he mumbled around the bread.

Nathaniel nodded. "When you start having the nightmares come see me. We'll set up a mattress for you in my room. If you didn't want to be alone last night, I can only imagine what it's going to be like once those start."

"I told you last night, Ser;" Anders looked a bit nettled, "the bed was too high. I've never slept on anything higher than the ground."

"So if we take your mattress off you'll stay in your room this time?" The blush was creeping back up Nathaniel's cheeks.

"Of course not, Ser."

Nathaniel blinked and then tapped his fingers on the table. "And why not?"

"Because you obviously need someone to keep the room tidy for you. I can do that easier if it's my room as well." Anders finished off his bread. "Speaking of, where are your clothes? They probably need to be laundered."

Nathaniel sputtered, going very red in the face. "I don't need to be taken care of. I'm a grown man."

Anders raised an eyebrow. "I can see that. However, you seem to need help keeping everything clean." He tilted his head. "The clothes you're wearing right now have stains on them."

"Aren't you supposed to do what I tell you to do?" Nathaniel asked, helplessly.

Anders gave him a cool look. "Not when it interferes with what I'm supposed to be doing."

Nathaniel sighed. "Fine. Do whatever you want. You're supposed to be a free man here in the Vigil anyway, so do whatever you like."

The smile on Anders' face lit up the room. "Why thank you, Ser."

"Why does it make you so happy to be used like this?"

"Because for the first time in my life I'm choosing to serve who I'm bound to," Anders replied. "When I was in the Tower, if I didn't serve who they told me to, the Templar ra—beat me."

Nathaniel noticed the stumble and raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. "So now, for the first time, when you could choose to serve yourself, you're choosing to mother me? I have servants who—"

"No," Anders said quietly. "No more servants going through your things. You're obviously someone important or I wouldn't have been given to you. You need a single person that you can trust dealing with your property."

"And why is that? You think someone would try to assassinate me?" Nathaniel was curious.

Anders simply nodded. "Rylok. She… doesn't let go of her property easily. And the easiest way for a Mage to get taken back to the Tower is to have their owner die."

Nathaniel nodded as if having some huge revelation. "So you _can_ be selfish. You aren't just doing this for me."

Anders shrank down in his chair, looking guilty.

"Stop that," Nathaniel said irritably. "I'm relieved to hear that you can at least think about yourself. I'll trust someone with self interest at heart more than someone protecting me out of altruism."

An uneasy silence fell between them until Nathaniel shifted and said, "Come on. I need to train you to use a weapon don't I? Let's head to the training grounds. Follow me."

The training grounds were empty when they entered, and Nathaniel hovered over the weapons rack, debating on which weapon to give to the mage. He finally selected a mace and held it out. "Go on. Take this. I'll not have you using anything sharp until you've built up those muscles and your coordination."

Anders reluctantly took hold of the mace. "Now what should I do, Ser?"

"You see those dummies?" Nathaniel pointed. "I want you to go over there and hit them. Repeatedly."

Anders frowned but did as he was told. It didn't take long for his arms to become fatigued and for him to have worked up a sweat.

"Alright, that's enough." Nathaniel stepped over to him and plucked the mace from his hands. "You've got the hang of it. I hope the commander isn't planning on taking you with us any time soon. Wait…" Nathaniel stopped. "What kind of magic can you do?"

"I was brought here to be a healer, but I have an understanding of Nature spells as well. They're all very weak, though, because of the-"

"Collar, yes…" Nathaniel absently scratched his chin. "The Commander told us that Wynne could give weapons nature attributes. Could you make this mace cold?"

Anders frowned and reached his hand back out to touch the weapon. Frost spread over his fingertips and over the weapon.

Nathaniel felt the weapon grow cold under his hand, but it wasn't uncomfortably so. When he touched the head of the weapon, however, he muffled a curse and drew his hand back. "That answers that question…" He murmured. "Can you do this before a battle? To multiple weapons? What about fire?"

Anders nodded. "Whatever you or the commander need me to do. Will this make it easier on me to fight?"

Nathaniel nodded absently. "If you're doing more damage this way then it will be over faster. And if you can make it colder you may just be able to freeze and shatter bits of them when you hit."

Anders stood there, waiting for Nathaniel to say something else, and shifted uncomfortably when some of the soldiers started filtering into the grounds for training. "Ser. We aren't alone here anymore." He cleared his throat.

Nathaniel looked up and around. "Ah right. You used up a lot of energy in the last couple of hours. Are you hungry again?"

Anders nodded. "Yes, Ser."

"Then go get something to eat from the Kitchen. Let the cook know you're the new Warden and he'll feed you as much as he can get you to eat." Nathaniel chuckled. "I'm going to try this mace out and see if it works as well as I hope. When you're done eating go talk to the Commander; there are a few more things he needs to tell you."

Anders quickly left the grounds, keeping his eyes low and away from the soldiers still filtering in. When he reached the kitchens without incident, he let out a sigh of relief and raised his voice a little. "Uhm… It's the cook here? Nathaniel told me to come in and get some more food…" His stomach let out an embarrassing gurgle.

A young man poked his head out from the larder. "Aha! You are the new Warden!" His accent marked him as being from Orlais. He reached a flour dusted hand up to push his nearly black hair out of his face. "Come in, come in. I have just the thing for you. Whenever you're hungry come see me. Always." He was wearing an open friendly grin, and openly staring at Anders. "You are far too skinny. I will fatten you up." And he pulled out a few sweetcakes and cookies from the larder, setting them on the table in front of the mage. "Eat, eat!"

"I…" Anders stared at him. "I'm a mage. You're not afraid of me?"

"What?" The young man's brown eyes widened. "Only fools are afraid of Mages. Ours are perfectly free and no one is hurt. Well… they are hurt less often than they are here! You trap mages up, make them slaves… Good way to attract demons." He nodded emphatically. "My name is Henri! Now eat!"

Anders obediently dropped his gaze to the food, and was thus unaware of Henri's lingering gaze. He took a bite of one of the sweetcakes first, and dropped the rest of it in surprise.

Henri's expressive face grew alarmed. "They are no good?" He seemed genuinely worried that his food had failed.

Anders shook his head emphatically and devoured the rest of them, including the cookies that had been set in front of him. "These are amazing! I've… never had anything sweet before. This is…" He seemed to be at a loss for words, and he gestured with the cookie. "Can I have more?"

Henri's face lit up again. "More? Of course! You can have as many as you want! We will stuff you with as many as we can fit!"

Anders froze at the cook's choice of words, and swallowed heavily. "On… On second thought, I need to see the commander. May I just take a few cookies with me?"

Henri's face fell. "Oh. Yes, yes. I'll leave the larder unlocked for you. I know how it gets for you Wardens at night."

Anders nodded. "Thank you." Then scooped up the rest of his cookies and nibbled them on the way to the Commander's study. When he arrived, he knocked lightly.

A muffled voice that sounded like the Zevran person from before. "Yes? What is it? We're a little busy."

Anders blushed. "It's um… Anders. The Commander wanted to see me?" He *really* hoped they would send him away.

There was a muffled curse and he heard, "Zevran. Get your clothes on. I need to ask him abooouuuuu… Mmmm. No! Stop!" He heard the Antivan laugh and then the door scraped open, Zevran sweeping by him wearing nothing but loose breeches and a smirk.

Anders blushed to the roots of his hair and stepped inside when the flustered Commander called him in. "I can come back later…"

"No, no…" Thomais said fixing his hair. "I needed to kick him out anyway. I wasn't getting any work done." He chuckled.

Anders popped a cookie in his mouth to avoid commenting.

"Now, Nathaniel has spoken to you about the changes when you become a Grey Warden, yes?" Anders nodded. "Good. I sent a messenger to Denerim to get in contact with Alistair. I know he set Wynne free, and I'm hoping he can take that collar off of you." Thomais rubbed his forehead. "The problem is that he and I aren't exactly on good speaking terms." He smiled apologetically and scratched at one blue tattooed cheek. "I want you to be there when I speak to him. If he sees you maybe..."

Anders nodded again. "He _was_ one of the few that was nice to us. Maybe now that he… has power he can help us. He always seemed to want to in the Tower."

Thomais steepled his fingers. "I also sent word to the Tower offering a large sum for the three mages you mentioned. We'll have your friends here soon enough." Then he smiled. "So how was your first night in Vigil?"

Anders blinked and swallowed his cookie. "Uhm. It's nothing like the Tower," he said honestly. "Nath- My master is very nice. He's teaching me how to use weapons, and let me stay with him last night because the bed is too high."

Thomais' eyes widened. "Let you…" Then he frowned. "I need to have a talk with him then."

Anders shook his head. "Please no. He didn't do anything to me. He pulled his mattress onto the floor with me and just let me stay." Anders' face was turning pink. "Not that he'd be doing anything wrong if he did. I'm a slave, Ser. Remember?"

Thomais growled. "Not in my Keep. You are a free man within these walls Anders. You can say no. You'd also be well within your rights to defend yourself if someone tried to push you into anything."

Anders shook his head again, and then he perked up a bit. "If it's not to bold of me to ask, Ser, could you keep the servants away from his room? I… Rylok doesn't let anyone go without a fight. I don't want to go back to the tower and I don't trust anyone else to not kill him."

Thomais nodded. "It's not too bold at all. I'll send the order to the servant's quarters. Don't worry about Nathaniel. He can take care of himself." Then he chuckled. "You know, he broke into Vigil to try and kill me. It took four Orlesian Wardens to get him into the dungeon. They were going to execute him, but I invoked the Right of Conscription and made him a Warden." Thomais grinned a little wider. "He's proved remarkably loyal so far. It's strange…" He scratched his chin. "The ones that try to kill me end up being the most loyal friends I could have."

"Oh? Talking about me are we?"

Anders shifted in his chair, startled. He hadn't heard anyone walking by. Zevran stood in the doorway wearing a cheeky grin.

"Yes, we were, love." Thomais stood and placed a kiss on the Antivan's cheek.

"Since you were talking about me, does that mean you were considering my proposal, my dear?" Zevran stepped into the room and sat on the desk smirking at Anders, and the mage looked distinctly frightened.

Thomais gave him an exasperated look. "No. And stop that. My answer is going to keep being no."

Zevran sighed and shrugged. "Well, I suppose I will just have to settle with ravaging just you." He slid off of the desk and sauntered towards Thomais.

Thomais blushed. "Uh, Anders? If you'd excuse me? We'll talk again once the others… have… arrived…" And then he was distracted by a pair of arms around him and a mouth firmly attached to his.

Anders nodded and beat a hasty retreat back to Nathaniel's room.


	5. Chapter 4

Yadda yadda don't own the boys.

* * *

A few days later, halfway on their trip to Amaranthine, Nathaniel unobtrusively watched Anders set up his bedroll through the fire that separated them. "Are you alright?"

"Huh?" Anders looked up from his fussing and nodded. "I'm fine. This is the least strenuous trip I've been on." He laughed. "No one ever took this slow of a trip with me along before."

A pained look passed over Nathaniel's face. "Anders…" He stood and crossed over to the mage. "I'm going to take the first watch." His voice was oddly quiet and soft and he placed a hand on Anders' shoulder. "You get some sleep." And he strode over to the edge of the clearing.

Anders settled into his bedroll, determined to get in some rest before it was his turn on watch, waking as he became aware of lips kissing him and teeth scraping his bottom lip, causing him to moan. He buried his hands in dark hair as the owner of that hair grabbed his own blonde locks and tugged his mouth away. "Now now…" A dark chuckle. "I'm in charge here. Or have you forgotten who your Master is? Has this soft life already erased your training?"

Anders moaned again and whimpered. He wanted to be kissed like that again. Hungry, passionate, demanding and claiming. "Nathaniel, please…" he whined.

"That's not how you ask, Anders." Hot breath in his ear, teeth on the lobe. "Ask correctly."

"Master, please…"

"Good boy…"

Anders sat up with a startled yell. Nathaniel, who was standing watch with his back to the mage, whipped around, thinking something had snuck up behind him but relaxed when he saw nothing. "Bad dream?" The dark haired rogue asked softly.

Anders turned bright red. "N…n…no."

"Ah." Nathaniel nodded and abruptly turned back to the forest, a blush staining his own cheeks. He'd heard the mage thrashing around and moaning, but he'd assumed it was nothing more than a simple nightmare. _And Maker's breath, I'm not his babysitter. I don't have to wake him every time he may be having a bad dream. _"Go back to sleep Anders. I'll wake you for the watch in a few hours." He heard the mage mutter something incoherently and then settle back down.

True to his word, Nathaniel woke him shortly after the middle of the night had passed. The noble rested a hand on his shoulder and gently shook him. "Anders, wake up it's your watch."

Anders blinked blearily at him. "Hrrmmm? Nate?" Then his eyes widened as he realized who he was talking to and he babbled out an apology and staggered off to the edge of the trees.

Nathaniel stared across the clearing at him and opened his mouth as if to say something. Thinking better of it, he shut his mouth and crawled into his own bedroll and hoped the Fade would be kinder on him tonight.

They arrived at Amaranthine shortly before midday. "What are your policies on," Nathaniel swallowed, "Slaves?"

The guard looked at him with a bored expression. "Slaves are to be collared and on a lead at all times within the walls of the city." Then he looked behind Nathaniel at Anders, who was staring up at the walls. "That one eh? The Templar only brought him here once. Caused a huge fuss."

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. "I have him well in hand. He doesn't need a lead."

"Oh, I'm certain you do." The guard smirked and leered at Anders. "He's a pretty one, though. Almost like woman with that hair. Care to rent him out for the night?"

Nathaniel leveled a cold glare on the man. "You are aware that's _my_ property you're leering at?"

"So?" The guard laughed coarsely. "That's what the little cocksucker likes." The guard reached a hand out to grab Anders by the arm. The mage let out a squeak and hid behind Nathaniel. "Last time he was here, the Templar lent him out to the guards after he tried to run away. I heard he was begging for it by the end." There was a smug grin on the man's face.

Nathaniel calmly reached out and grabbed the front of man's tunic, bringing him in close. "If I ever hear you say anything about my property again I will gut you and leave you for the vultures." He shoved the man away and stalked into the city, hand firmly attached to Anders' arm.

When they rounded the corner, away from the eyes of the guards, Nathaniel let go and sighed wearily. "How many times?"

Anders stared at him, eyes wide. "How… what?"

Nathaniel growled. "How many times did the Templar do this to you? Use you like this?"

"I…I thought you knew. They… everyone." Anders wilted. "Doesn't matter how often." He mumbled.

Nathaniel took a deep, calming breath. "I swear to Andraste and the Maker, we will get freedom for the mages. No one, especially no one who has no control over the way they were born, deserves to be treated like this."

Anders blinked at him. "Ser, we're going to make a scene. Please, let's just go. It doesn't matter what they did to me. I'm not going back."

Nathaniel nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry." He waved a hand to head off Anders' protests. "I know, you're slave, I don't have to apologize." He sighed wearily. "Come on. The tailor is this way." Letting out another sigh, he led them down a side street and though a door.

A short, fat and balding man met them midway to the counter. "Yes? What do you need?"

Nathaniel pointed. "I need five separate outfits for him."

"Ooooh! I know just the style, Ser. Your slave will look stunning in this…" He rummaged around a box and pulled out a small vest-like top, and sheer pantaloons with embroidery on the side. "He will be the envy of all the others. This is the latest style. Just in this season."

Nathaniel let out an incredulous snort, though he turned an impressive shade of red. "No. I need something he can move in. Not that ridiculous… harem… outfit."

"Move?" The man looked baffled. "But is he not a pleasure slave? He is too scrawny, what else could he be good for?"

Nathaniel clenched his hands to restrain his temper. "Not only is he the new Healer for Vigil, but he's the personal bodyguard for the Grey Wardens. Now find me something he can move in! And get this...trash out of my sight. I never want to see it again."

The man huffed indignantly, and started rooting around in the back, muttering to himself. "Aha!" He came back with a set of robes that had multiple straps and layers around the waist, accented by furred sleeves. There was also light chainmail woven into the fabric, and the fur covered metal plates. "Here! Worn by the Arcane Warriors of the old Tevinter Imperium, and meticulously copied for authenticity and practicality!"

Nathaniel studied the robes for a few minutes and then nodded. "These are perfect. Take his measurements, but leave some room for muscle growth. Once they're done, they're to be transported to Vigil as soon as possible. You're to make this your top priority, understand? Money isn't an issue. Just get them done_."_

The man puffed up indignantly. "Ser, I don't know who you are but you can't just demand that I move you to the top of the list!"

Nathaniel pulled out the pouch given to him by Thomais and withdrew a handful of gold. "There are one hundred coins in here. I've been authorized by the Commander of the Grey to give you the full amount." The man's eyes bulged and he snatched for the purse. Nathaniel jerked it away. "Provided you can fulfill the order within the next few days."

"Yes, yes. You'll be my top priority. Now leave, if you want me to get started. No need to measure. I've been doing this a long time."

Nathaniel nodded at the man politely and, taking Anders' arm in hand again, they left Amaranthine without further incident.

Halfway back to the Keep they set up again for the night.

"I'll take first watch this time, Ser." Anders hadn't bothered to pull out his bed roll yet. "You sleep as much as you want. I appreciate what you did for me in the city today. I wish there was a better way to repay you." An image from his dream flashed through his mind and he flushed. _Thank the Maker he can't tell through the fire…_

Nathaniel blinked wearily at him. "Everyone keeps telling you that you're one of us now. What will it take to make you believe it?"

Anders laughed softly. "More years than I have left. I don't think I'll ever be truly free from them."

Nathaniel heaved a sigh and curled up in his bedroll. "Just wake me when it's my turn." He closed his eyes and did his best to drift off to sleep.

The weight of a hand on his hip roused him from slumber and he blinked his eyes open to find Anders perched at his side.

"I've thought of a way that I can repay you…" The mage murmured, sliding his hand along to the front of Nathaniel's breeches.

Nathaniel's face flamed and he pulled away. "I don't know what's come over you, but I don't-"

He saw Anders grin. "You think I don't see how you look at me? How your eyes watch me wherever I go?" He chuckled. "And you can't claim it's to make sure I don't try anything. You trust me enough to stand watch, so there's no need to watch me like that… Unless you want something from me."

Nathaniel shook his head violently. "I'd never ask that of you! How could you even want to? After what was done to you?" His voice was soft, pleading.

"For my Master, I will." Anders stretched out beside him and slipped his hand past Nathaniel's waistband.

Nathaniel groaned at Anders' touch and gave in. He gently pulled the other man's hand away and pushed Anders onto his back, straddling the mage's waist. When Anders reached out again, he growled and pinned the mage's hands to the ground.

Anders tugged at the hold, whimpering a little, and Nathaniel nearly purred. "You wanted this; you'll do as I tell you." As he leaned down, he felt a sudden rush of vertigo, opening his eyes to find himself on his back, staring up at the stars, with Anders shaking his shoulder.

"Ser, Ser! It's time for you to take the watch. Wake up."

Nathaniel groaned and sat up. _This is going to be a very long day._

They arrived at the Keep mid-afternoon and Nathaniel immediately sent Anders away to the kitchens and went to see the Commander.

"I can't do this!" Nathaniel groaned and put his head in his hands.

"Can't do what?" Thomais was alone in his study today.

"I can't take care of him. I can't do this. You can't do this to me. I'm going to end up hurting him," Nathaniel rambled.

Thomais raised an eyebrow and shut the heavy wooden door. "Alright. Why? Tell me what's going on."

Nathaniel raised an incredulous look at him. "Do you know what the Templar did to him? They…" He sputtered, "They _used_ him. They rented him out to guards when he misbehaved. And _I_ see him and all I want to do is…" He blushed bright red and lowered his face to his hands again.

Thomais covered his mouth to stifle a snicker. It would not help at all for him to laugh at Nathaniel's plight. When he was sure he wasn't going to start giggling, he walked over and patted Nathaniel on the head. "I'm sure you'll do just fine," he murmured.

Nathaniel twisted to look up at him. "I can't believe you're encouraging this! How can you say that?"

"Because you don't want to hurt him." Thomais said simply. "If you didn't care about his feelings, you wouldn't be here. So, no matter what happens between the two of you, you won't be hurting him." He shrugged.

Nathaniel made a strangled noise. "You could just eliminate the temptation completely if you'd take his damn papers back."

"Nathaniel. I'm not taking the papers back. Now get out of here. I have more work to do." Thomais opened the door and pointed out into the hallway.

Nathaniel sighed and slunk out of the study, heading back to his room. When he opened the door, he blinked in surprise. Anders was on the floor with a large washtub, stripped to his smallclothes, and elbows deep in the soapy water.

"Ah!" Anders looked up. "There you are. I need your clothes. Strip."

"I beg your pardon?"

He motioned to the tub in front of him. "Clothes. Now."

Nathaniel remembered how insistent he'd been the other day and wordlessly handed the mage his top.

Anders raised an eyebrow. "Breeches too. You've been in them for three days." Then he looked back down and continued his washing.

Maker, there was no way that was happening, especially not now. He was blushing again and used the momentary distraction to flee to the training grounds. Once there, he was determined to work until he was no longer picturing a wet and soapy, nearly-naked Anders or unconscious, whichever came first.

After a moment, Anders looked up from his task and raised an eyebrow when he didn't see Nathaniel or the breeches. Then he sighed, shrugged, and went back to washing.


	6. Chapter 5

Still don't own the boys. -sadfaice-

* * *

A week passed without incident, Anders finally used to sleeping on a bed, but not in his own room yet. The mage felt safe when in Nathaniel's presence and kept up a pretense of nightmares to stay with the other man. Each morning he woke to the feeling of being like a child's stuffed toy and feigned sleep until Nathaniel woke and moved away.

At the end of the week, however, Thomais made his first foray away from his desk since the first night he arrived, to talk to the people surrounding the Keep, taking Nathaniel, Anders, and Zevran with him.

After taking a deep breath of the fresh air outside, he took a good look around and grinned when he spotted a pair of familiar faces. "Master Wade! Herren!" He called out and hurried over to the couple. "It's good to see you two. What brings you all the way out here to my new home?"

Herren grinned at him, "We thought we'd help out the new Wardens. You _are_ going to need the finest armor your money can get you."

"I suppose the money the King paid us had nothing to do with it…" Wade's pouting voice came from the forge, and he made his way over to the table.

"Well, yes darling, but they _do_ need us." Herren pointed out. "Is there anything you need right now?"

Thomais nodded and moved to browse the armor and weapon selection, picking and choosing a small variety. "You can have these sent up to my room, right? I'm afraid I'm on a bit of a schedule today."

Herren nodded. "Of course! Anything for Wade's favorite patron. Though, he's been a little pouty since the Dragon Scale. Do you think you could bring him something interesting to make him feel better?"

Thomais laughed. "Who knows what I'll run into out there. If I ever slay any more dragons this will be the first place I bring them to. I promise."

Anders stood back some, hiding behind Nathaniel a little, and Zevran stepped up to browse the weapons while Thomais chatted. When the two finished their shopping they waved goodbye and headed for the first person the Seneschal has told them to see, a young woman by the name of Sergeant Maverlies.

"Ho there, Commander." She greeted them as they approached her. "I don't mean to alarm you, but it's possible there are still darkspawn in the Vigil."

Thomais raised an eyebrow, and Zevran let out a chuckle. "I could have sworn we killed all of them." The Antivan grinned.

She held up a hand. "Let me explain. You know Dworkin?"

"Yes, the dwarf with the amusing explosions." Thomais nodded.

"That mad dwarf's bombs shook the whole keep. Some of the deep cellars caved in and I suspect that there are pockets of darkspawn below, trapped. In time, they may dig their way out."

Nathaniel and Anders shared an alarmed look as Thomais groaned. "Take me to the cave in Sergeant."

The Sergeant led them down a flight of stairs and pointed to a large pile of rubble. "Here we are. The Vigil goes deep. Real deep. The hallways down here have been crumbling for years and decades. And that blasted Dworkin's explosives didn't do the structure any favors." She was definitely put out by the explosions.

Thomais pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright. Do you know _how_ the Darkspawn got here to begin with?"

Maverlies shrugged. "I dunno, but no one saw them approaching on the surface. Do you think they found a way up from below?"

Thomais nodded. "Well Zev, looks like we'll be heading back to the Deep Roads."

Zevran looked mildly alarmed. "That is where you said you encountered that… Broodmother you told me about past Orzammar?"

Thomais nodded and turned to Anders and Nathaniel. "Look… I don't know what's down here. But there's a potential to run into something called a broodmother, especially in the Deep Roads. The Darkspawn… they take women and-"

There was a whimper from Anders and Nathaniel cut Thomais off. "I don't think I want to hear anymore. But the Deep Roads… That's where all the Dwarves live right?" Nathaniel chewed on his lip thoughtfully.

Thomais nodded gravely. "And where the Darkspawn flee to after the death of an Archdemon."

Anders' eyes widened. "Maker preserve us, if the tunnels go that deep…"

Thomais cast him a weird look before turning back to Maverlies. "Have them clear the rubble. We need to get down there."

Marverlies nodded. "You heard the Commander! Put your backs into it!"

Once the rubble was cleared, the group set off down the tunnels. They ran into nothing until them reached an open room and came across a mabari. She was dirty with blood and who knows what else, and her fur had great patches ripped out of it.

Thomais reached out a hand to pet her; all too aware at how a mabari _could _react to anyone not its master. Luck was on his side today, however, and he succeeded in calming her down and pulling a scroll from her leg. Wordlessly he handed it to Nathaniel.

Nathaniel took it with a puzzled look and began reading. "It's from Adria! She was like a mother to me. We have to save her!"

Zevran raised an eyebrow. "You are aware, Nathaniel, that if this Adria person is still alive it is likely that she has become a ghoul… or worse? Especially with so many Darkspawn running about."

Nathaniel looked sick. "That _is_ a possibility. But I'm not just going to give up and not try!"

Zevran shrugged. "I only wish that you do not get your hopes up. I would hate to see you crushed. You're a necessary part of the team after all."

Nathaniel nodded and the group forged onward.

After a clearing out a few groups of Darkspawn, they emerged into a room that looked like a makeshift prison. One short fight with ghouls later, Thomais headed over to one of the holding cells. "How long have you men been in here?"

"I don't know!" The man seemed slightly hysterical. "Months? It's been days since we had any food, please let us out! The Arl put us here!"

"Arl Howe?" Nathaniel's eyes widened. "But this isn't supposed to be a dungeon, what was my Father thinking?"

"You're his son!" The man cringed away from the gate.

"I'm not my father," Nathaniel said quietly.

Thomais spared him a worried glance and opened the gate. "There. You're free. Go to Veral in the Keep. Tell him the Commander has allowed you to get everything you need."

The men nodded and ran for the exit.

Thomais stared after them for a moment before he let out a sigh. "If there are places like this all over the Keep, then there may still be men trapped. I'm going to have to speak with Veral and organize search parties."

While that was going on, Anders explored the room further until he came across a door. Tilting his head at it, he tried the handle, only to find that it was locked. Wandering back over to the group, he tugged on Nathaniel's arm. "There's uh… a door. Over there, Ser. It's locked though."

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow but followed the mage over to the door, where he picked the lock and felt a cool rush of air when it opened. "Ah. The family crypt. My mother always forbade us from playing in the cellars. Now I know why…"

They heard Zevran chuckle. "Your cellar was always home to Darkspawn and ghouls then?"

"Of course not." Nathaniel snorted. "But I'm sure she didn't want us playing in the crypt."

Zevran peered over his shoulder. "It's a bit eerie in there. Why are we going in again?"

Nathaniel shrugged. "Feel free to stay up there with the Commander. I'd like to pay respects to some of my ancestors."

Anders curiously followed Nathaniel down the stairs, and as the rogue went to each coffin in turn, the mage studied a sack propped against a beam in the middle of the room. It seemed out of place and therefore worth investigating. He loosened the drawstrings on it and grinned as he pulled out a beautifully made bow. "Ser! Look what I found!" He trotted over to Nathaniel and held out the bow.

Nathaniel turned and took it in trembling hands. "Is this… what I think it is? It is! This is the Howe crest burned into the bow, right there, Anders!" He was smiling happily. "This is my grandfather's bow! Or, rather, my grandfather was the last to use it." He amended. "It was originally made for an ancestor during the Exalted Marches."

"Why didn't you have it before?" Anders asked curiously. "You look like it's been lost forever."

"My father… hid it away, I guess. I'm surprised he didn't destroy it." Nathaniel ran his hands over the wood. "I remember finding it before I was sent to the Free Marches. I'm glad to have it in my hands again. A bow like this deserves to be used." He gave Anders a genuinely happy smile. "Thank you. I finally have something to show how proud I am of my family, and prove to people I'm _not_ my Father."

Anders flushed and shifted under the praise. "I saw it was beautiful and thought you might like it. I wasn't aware that it meant something special to you."

Nathaniel laughed. "Stop belittling your gift, Anders. It's fine. I'm very happy to have it back."

Anders nodded, and followed Nathaniel back up the stairs, where they moved on deeper into the cellar, fighting a few more packs of Darkspawn along the way, and finally emerged into a cave of sorts. There was a female figure in noble clothing hunched over and taking deep rasping breaths up ahead.

Nathaniel's voice trembled as he called out, "Adria? Adria is that you?"

The figure turned around, and Anders flinched when he saw the glassy stare and peeling skin that he'd seen on the ghouls they'd fought before. He spared a glance at Nathaniel who looked rather sick.

"There… there's some way to help her, isn't there?" He pleaded, not looking anywhere but at the woman who used to be closer to him than his mother.

Thomais shook his head. "I'm afraid not Nathaniel. Would you like me to take care of it?"

Nathaniel shook his head violently. "No. Let me do her this one last favor." As the ghoul opened its mouth to scream at him, he readied his bow, took aim, and shot. His aim was dead on as the first arrow went in her mouth and the next in her eye. The ghoul dropped, and Nathaniel ran from the cellar as if he had an archdemon on his heels.

Anders followed him, trying to keep up as the man fled from the passages. He still wasn't all that fit though, and the rogue outstripped him easily. Anders had no idea where he was going, but decided to check their room first. When he arrived, very out of breath, he pushed the door open and saw his master sitting on the bed, hugging his knees to his chest, head bowed to them. Though he made no sound, the shake of his shoulders told Anders he was weeping. Wordlessly he crossed into the room and put his arms around Nathaniel murmuring some soft and nonsensical words in the other's ear.

Nathaniel stiffened and shrugged the mage off of him. _Not now. Not now Anders…_ He thought, and hunched into an even smaller ball.

"Ser…" Anders tried again to hug the man, "Ser, please. Let me take care of you. This is what I'm here for. I'll do whatever you ask of me."

"You don't know what you're offering Anders." Nathaniel rasped out, voice thick with tears.

"I'm a slave, Ser. Remember? It's a part of what I am. Being a slave means it's a constant offer. I can give you comfort." His voice trembled, and he rested his hands on Nathaniel's shoulders, giving an encouraging squeeze.

Nathaniel raised his gaze at the mage. "So that's it. This is _duty_. A part of who you are. You're here because you're obligated to be." He unfolded from his position and took hold of Anders' wrists in one hand, placing his other on the mage's hip.

"S… S… Ser…" Anders' breathing became irregular and he trembled violently. "W…why… w… what are you doing?"

Nathaniel shifted again, straddling Anders' hips and forcing the mage down to the mattress, his grip pinning the other man's wrists to the pillow above his head. "You offered it to me, didn't you? It's why you're here? You said you would do anything I asked." A thought struck him. "You want this don't you? You've been putting those dreams in my head. Trying to get me to lose control of myself and do something… regrettable." He leaned down, nearly nose to nose with the mage.

Anders' trembles didn't cease. His eyes pinched shut and he let out a soft sigh that was almost a sob. _This isn't what I meant. I only wanted to..._ _I was wrong. This is_**_just_**_ like being back at the Tower._

Nathaniel finally seemed to notice what he was doing. He recoiled from Anders and back into his previous position with his head sunk between his knees. "Get out."

"S…Ser?"

Nathaniel trembled with the exertion of keeping his temper and libido in check. "Andraste's blood, Mage. If you don't get out of my room right now, you'll think the Templar were gentle with you."

Anders' eyes opened wide and he stumbled backwards off the bed, hitting the floor, and then scrambling out. Tears in his eyes, he headed for the kitchens and the larder, hoping Henri was there.

Nathaniel stared at the spot where Anders had sat. _Good. Now he'll stay away from me._ He shivered and wept for Adria, and for what he nearly did to his charge.

Meanwhile, Anders wedged himself in a corner of the larder, crying and eating cookies until Henri found him and swept him into a hug. The Orlesian simply sat there, holding him, until the weeping had passed.

"Would you like me to help you to your room?" Henri said kindly, rubbing circles on Anders' back.

Anders shook his head. "No, no. I… Can I stay in here? I won't cause any trouble. I don't want to go back there tonight."

Henri nodded. "That's fine. Fine. I will stay here with you." He smiled. "You won't be alone, alright?"

Anders stared up at the cook and breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Yes. Thank you. Thank you."

Henri quirked a grin at him. "No problem at all. I will be back with blankets. Do not worry."

Anders nodded, and stared blankly at the wood grain of the cabinet until Henri returned with the blankets and soothed him to sleep.


	7. Chapter 6

You know the drill, nothing belongs to me. Except my rude guard... and my plot

* * *

Nathaniel stared at his breakfast miserably and pushed it around with his fork.

"Nathaniel Howe."

He looked up at the sound of his name and paled. "Er… Good morning, Commander?"

Thomais' face was impassive. "My study. Now."

Nathaniel stood up and pushed his breakfast away, suddenly not hungry at all, and followed Thomais. _Maker's breath, he used my full name. They're going to kill me. They're going to dump me in the Deep Roads to fight Darkspawn until I'm killed._

Thomais pushed the door to the study open and nearly shoved Nathaniel inside, slamming the door shut behind him. "Now," He stated, taking a calm seat at his desk, "do you want to tell me why I had a crying mage in my study earlier this morning, begging me 'Don't blame Nathaniel'?"

Nathaniel swallowed. "Er… I didn't do it?"

Thomais raised an eyebrow. "That's a load of manure. Tell me what happened when he went after you last night."

Nathaniel sighed and dropped his head into his hands. "He came in. Offered… comfort. Said he'd do whatever I asked. Said it's his job. I took it the wrong way. I… I thought he didn't want to comfort me; that it was just what he was supposed to do, that he didn't really _care_, and he was offering…" Nathaniel paused a minute and took in a deep breath. "I thought that he was offering intimate comfort." He chanced a look up at Thomais' face. "I pressed him. And then realized he was trembling with fear. Realized exactly what I was about to do to him." His voice grew harsher. "And I pushed him away. Forced him out of my room."

Thomais simply stood there, silently.

Nathaniel shook his head. "I don't deserve this responsibility. I don't deserve to be anywhere near him. Take the Maker damned papers back!"

"No."

"What? Andraste's blood! Thomais, I nearly raped him!" Nathaniel surged to his feet. "Take the papers back!"

"Nearly." Thomais shoved Nathaniel back into his seat. "The word you used is 'nearly.' Had you actually done it, you would be getting a personal visit from Zev. As it stands…" He tapped his chin. "You're going to have to make this up to him. Get him to trust you, and for Andraste's sake, don't do something stupid like that again." He smiled.

Nathaniel sat, struck dumb for a few moments. "What is it with you and people redeeming themselves?" He growled. "Some people cannot be saved. Some people cannot be changed from who they are, who their family is." He snorted. "Some things just breed true," he added bitterly.

Thomais started to laugh. "Alright. If our blood determines who we are then let me ask you a question."

Nathaniel nodded warily.

"What can you tell me about my character?" Thomais spread his arms wide and grinned.

"You're a selfless individual that believes the best in people," Nathaniel responded promptly. "You look to the good in others even when it isn't there. But you can be ruthless and stubborn when you feel you're right."

"Thank you," Thomais said. "I think. That sounded an awful lot like a backhanded compliment. Now let me tell you something…" He leaned forward a little. "I grew up in an Alienage. I'm not a proud Dalish warrior. I'm Alienage scum that never would have gotten out if it hadn't been for a disgusting 'noble' human that stole my cousin and the woman I was supposed to marry that day. My parents lived in the Alienage. As did theirs. And most likely theirs. If blood determines our character, shouldn't I still be there right now?"

Nathaniel sat speechless.

Thomais smirked and tried another tack. "Now let's take Anders for example." He chuckled when he saw the panic flit across Nathaniel's face. "He's a charming man. A bit over eager to please. A good, gentle soul, I think." Thomais sat back on his desk. "Now, if blood is who we are, if blood is what shapes us, then shouldn't he be a raving monstrous animal with no regard for anyone's life except his own?" He sighed. "Nathaniel, there's a reason for everything that happens. Now go find him and prove to yourself that you are _not_ your father."

Nathaniel stared, open mouthed.

"That means get out of my office. I have work to do." Thomais flapped his hand at Nathaniel and sat behind his desk with more paperwork. "Oh, and by the by, the Templar will be here in a week to see if we're capable of taking on more mages. So you're also working with a deadline." He smirked.

Nathaniel stood and returned to his room. Walking in a daze, the words Thomais had spoken tumbling through his mind. When he stepped into his room, he noticed something was off. The bed was made, his clothes were neatly folded in his trunk, and there was a cookie on a small tin plate. Frowning, he picked the cookie up and noticed it had a smile frosted onto it, and he couldn't help but chuckle. There was a messily scrawled note underneath it from Anders. "This may be easier than I thought," he murmured and took a bite of the confection as he read the note.

"Ser!" A young voice startled him and he turned around.

There was a very young man standing in his doorway, holding a package. "These are the uniforms you ordered from the tailor."

Nathaniel stepped over to the door and took the package, shooing the adolescent away with his hand. He set it on the bed and began inspecting the work. Satisfied, he went to put them away only to notice a smaller bundle at the bottom. With a curious frown, he sliced the thread holding it shut and pulled out a piece of short leather. His mouth fell open as he regarded the short vest that had been thrown in with the other clothes.

There was a soft sound of feet at the door and he spun around to see Anders standing there. The mage blinked, turned scarlet and started stammering. "B-but y-y-you said…t-told him…" As Nathaniel took a step towards him to explain, the mage turned on his heel and fled from the doorway.

Nathaniel threw the offending garment on the bed, cursing his luck. There was no way Anders was going to want to be anywhere near him now. Putting the other clothes back into the bundle, and stuffing the harem outfit in his trunk, he stepped over to the room Anders had been given and placed the clothes on the bed. Then, with a sigh, he went back to his own room to start planning how to get Anders to trust him again.

Three days passed with no success. Every time he'd tried to get close, the mage either bolted or was carted away by the cook for "help." He was on the verge of calling the whole thing off when he heard soft murmuring from around the corner of the corridor he was currently stalking. As he approached the corner the noise separated into two distinct voices.

"I'm sorry, Ser. Was there something you needed?" Quiet, guarded, and respectful. That was Anders.

"Actually," this was a voice he didn't recognize, "There is something you can help me with."

Nathaniel frowned, and to all appearances faded from view. When he knew they wouldn't be able to spot him, he stepped around the corner to watch.

Anders was backed into the wall, clutching a scroll in one hand, while the other was pressed flat to the stone behind him. The owner of the strange voice appeared to be one of the Vigil's guards and he was currently leaning over the mage, with one hand resting just beside Anders' head. The mage was trembling, and licking his lips, likely due to nerves. "I, ah… what do you need then, Ser?"

The guard leaned a little closer. "Why don't you come back to my room and I'll show you, hrm?"

Anders' eyes darted back and forth as if looking for a way out. "I n-n-need to g-g-get this paper to, uh, the S-Seneschal. The C-Commander is counting on me."

"It won't take too long." The guard grinned. "Just an hour or two. No one will miss you for that long."

"B-b-but the Commander said-"

The guard reached his other hand up to cup Anders' face. "Come on. If you don't come with me willingly, I'll just have to drag you, slave."

Anders whimpered and slumped in apparent defeat.

Nathaniel had seen enough. _How dare he touch Anders like that!_ He slipped up behind the man and pulled him off of Anders as he faded back into view. Taking the guard's shoulders in his hands, he slammed the other man against the wall. "In case you forgot," he hissed, "in the eyes of the commander, that mage is a free man. So unless you want a dagger buried in your heart, I suggest you leave him alone. Or next time, take no for an answer." He slammed the guard into the wall on last time for good measure and then turned to Anders. "I'm sorry," He said quietly. "Let's get this message to the seneschal, and then if you're willing, I'd like to sit and talk to you."

Anders nodded and hurried along the corridor, keeping at least two feet of space between them.

After delivering the letter, Nathaniel paused out in the hallway. "Where would you like us to go?" He said. "Someplace public?" He wanted to give Anders an out.

Anders' face lit up in a grin. "Our room," he said firmly, forgiveness poured into those two words.

Nathaniel let out a relieved sigh and led the way back. When they reached the room, Nathaniel sat on his trunk in an attempt to let Anders sit by himself on the bed. Anders smiled and shook his head, pulling Nathaniel with him.

Nathaniel sighed. "I… made a mistake. A huge mistake. I'm not going to offer you excuses." He rubbed his forehead. "When I told the Commander what happened, I begged him to take your papers back." He pulled his knees up to his chest and leaned his back against the headboard. "I didn't want to hurt you again, you understand, right? You didn't do anything wrong."

Anders balled his fists into his robe. "I _did_ do something wrong. And I did it today, too. I didn't defend myself. I didn't… say no."

"None of it was your fault," he repeated. "I'm too much like my father for my own good. You would be better off if you asked Thomais to sign your papers to someone else. Like the cook."

Anders stared at him for a moment before his eyes watered and his bottom lip quivered. "You are _not_ your father," he said firmly, before crawling over and flopping down in Nathaniel's lap to give him a hug. He buried his nose in Nathaniel's shoulder and sighed. "You're a good person. You have to believe me. If you weren't, you wouldn't have driven me away like that. You would have just hurt me."

Nathaniel sat very still before he lifted his trembling arms and settled them around Anders, returning the hug. "If you say so," He said softly.

"Of course I say so," Anders replied. "You're a good man, Nathaniel. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise."

Nathaniel chuckled and hugged Anders close. "You won't be saying that in a few days." The tone of his voice was amused. "The Templar will be here at the end of the week, to see if the environment is good enough to take on more slaves."

Anders jerked away. "What?"

"According to our fearless leader, they're coming to evaluate us. That likely means seeing how well we do in taming troublemakers." He sighed. "You and I are going to be what determines if Thomais gets to bring your friends here."

Anders nodded slowly in understanding. He then let out a fearful noise and buried himself in Nathaniel's arms again. "You won't let them hurt me, will you?"

"Not without fight," he assured the mage. "They won't touch you if I have _anything_ to say about it."

Anders sighed happily. "Thank you…" he murmured.

Nathaniel patted his hair and smiled. _Maybe I really **am** a good person…_


	8. Chapter 7

Alright, not mine yaddayadda. Enjoy the angst and fun loves.

* * *

The rest of the week passed with Anders on pins and needles the entire time. When the Templar didn't show up on the appointed day it made everyone in the Keep nervous. Everything had been prepared, the guest rooms were ready, and Thomais kept pacing in the courtyard until he was dragged off by a determined Zevran.

Later that evening however, a surprise of a different nature arrived.

Anders looked up from his baking with the cook with a horrified expression when he heard the fanfare. Barely a few seconds later, the door of the kitchen slammed open and Nathaniel rushed in, wild eyed. "King Alistair is here!" He blurted. "Come on Anders, Thomais wants us downstairs NOW!"

Anders dropped what he was doing and rinsed his hands in the small bucket Henri kept for such a thing, and then ran after his master. "What should I do?" He asked fearfully.

"Keep your head down. Don't say anything unless spoken too, especially in the presence of his guards. They're going to be Templar. And don't do anything unless you see me give the okay first, or unless the King gives his okay." Nathaniel picked up the pace.

Anders mulled over that in his mind as they sprinted along the corridors of the Keep, finally emerging in the main hall. Nathaniel barely reached his spot by the wall and Anders dropped to his knees to the right, when the door opened and Alistair walked in with a huge smile on his face. And no escort.

"Everyone, relax." He waved a hand, "I didn't make this a formal visit because I didn't _want_ any formality."

Nathaniel sighed and relaxed a fraction of an inch, and of course, tensed up all over again when Alistair shot him a look, and then turned his gaze to Thomais and Zevran. "This is Rendon's son, am I right, Thomais?"

Thomais quirked a grin. "Oh yes. And a Grey Warden now too. Broke into the Vigil before I got here, determined to lay traps and try to kill me. Took four of the Orlesian Wardens to bring him down."

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "And you made him a Warden?" He clanked over to the large table and took a seat across from Thomais. "You seem to collect people that want to kill you, or who've tried to kill you." He flashed a grin at Zevran, and then looked askance at Thomais. "Are you starting a harem, my friend?" He asked in a lighthearted tone.

The unexpected levity caught Thomais by surprise and he choked on his ale. Nathaniel, standing behind the table, also started choking, on his own saliva it seemed. Zevran and Alistair, on the other hand, burst into laughter while Anders tried to muffle his giggles.

After Thomais managed to get in a few good lungs full of air, he grinned back. "No, that one has his eye set on someone else I'm afraid. And this one would gut me if I even tried." He gave Zevran an affectionate squeeze.

"I've become a very jealous man." Zevran smirked.

"Well then." Alistair's grin faded nervously. "On to the purpose of my visit. After your letter, I wanted to meet this mage of yours and talk to him about what's been going on at the Tower since…since Greagoir died. I know he kept the other Templar from doing anything extreme, but I don't think he knew everything that went on in the Tower. In fact, I know he didn't. Honestly, after Irving died years before, I don't think he much cared what went on," Alistair mused.

Thomais motioned behind him to where Nathaniel was standing and Anders knelt on the floor. "He's right behind me. Though, if you want to speak to him alone, you're going to have to ask Nathaniel."

Alistair stood up and held out his hand. "May I then, Nathaniel? I think it's better if I spoke to him alone, if he's willing to talk to me."

Nathaniel looked down by his side with a sigh. "Are you alright with this, Anders?" He said softly.

Anders nodded and stood. "I'll be fine," He murmured.

"Good."

"Wonderful then!" Alistair motioned to Anders. "Come along. I want to take this some place quiet. The library I think." He looked to Thomais. "_Is_ there a library?"

The elf grinned. "Anders can direct you."

Anders nodded and trotted along behind Alistair as they navigated their way through the keep. When Alistair motioned for him to take a seat, he did so, staring apprehensively up.

"I want you to answer me fully and honestly, alright?" Alistair stood with his hands clasped behind his back. "I don't want you to hedge around the truth. I want you to tell me exactly how bad it was for you and all the others."

Anders' hands shook, but he nodded.

"Good. Now, I think I remember you. But I try very hard to not remember my days in training. You were there then, weren't you, Anders?"

"Y-yes, Your Majesty. I-I remember you, though. You and Carroll were always nice to us." Anders replied.

Alistair snapped his fingers in remembrance. "Yeees. I remember you now. You're the one that kept trying to escape." He grinned. "And now it looks like you've finally managed it. How does it feel? Are you happy out here?"

Anders opened his mouth, and then closed it, thinking. "I… Yes, Ser. I'm very happy out here. Nathaniel is kind to me. He never asks anything of me, and complains constantly when I try to perform my duties." He blushed. "The cleaning and such. He… almost hurt me last week. But he pushed me away before he let his emotions get the better of him." Anders squeezed his eyes shut. "He's a good master. And the Commander said if anyone was too… forward with me I was to tell him, and… he would take care of them. Or Zevran would."

Alistair nodded. "I see. What about life in the Tower? What exactly did they do to you, to make you want to run away so many times?"

Anders paled. "Please, Ser. I don't want to talk about that. Not ever again."

Alistair nodded grimly. "I think that answers _that_ question."

Anders trembled. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, Ser. But, the memories of that awful place… No one deserves that," He mumbled.

"You're right."

Anders looked up on shock. "I'm… what?"

"You're right. No one deserves that sort of treatment. I should have done something to put a stop to this sooner." Alistair started pacing. "I want your help. Thom has already applied for three more from the Tower, but I need to know who is doing the worst." He rubbed his forehead. "I need to know which Templar have been… abusing their power."

"Rylok, Ser," Anders said softly. "And Cullen."

"Cullen?" Alistair blinked. "But he was… what happened?"

"Rylok, Ser. She's what happened. When she couldn't…" He flushed. "When she found out I don't like women, she stopped trying to be nice."

Alistair nodded. "I see." Then he sighed and sat loudly into a chair. "Bitterness does strange things to people."

"To be fair, Ser," Anders said, trying to control his own venom, "She was a right bitch before she found out she couldn't bed me. Even if I'd been particular to women it wouldn't have been towards her, in the slightest."

Alistair laughed. "You're right, of course. The woman is a harpy."

Anders merely sat there, biting his lip as if he wanted to say something.

Alistair caught the gesture. "Was there something else? Another Templar you wanted to speak against?"

Anders shook his head. "No, Your Majesty. I...just wanted to...thank you. For what you did for me. And for the others."

Alistair smiled. "Well, I'm not quite done with that yet, am I? I should thank you, Anders. For speaking out. Now, I suppose I'd better get you back to Nathaniel before he sends out a search party, right?"

Anders nodded, relieved. "Yes, Ser." He stood, and then followed Alistair back out into the main hall.

"Wait a moment…" Alistair stopped him with a hand before they reached the door. "What Thomais said, that Nathaniel already had his eye on someone, what do you know about that?"

Anders flushed scarlet. "I think he meant me. But he couldn't have. Mas… Nathaniel doesn't know of my preferences and if he did, I doubt he'd want a slave."

Alistair hummed thoughtfully. "I see. Well, let go on then, shall we?"

"I… Yes, Ser." Anders nodded and hurried back into the main hall.

The talking ran late into the evening, but when Anders finally yawned and curled up on the floor, leaning against Nathaniel's leg, the rogue decided he'd had enough.

"It's time for bed I think." He stood and stretched, his back popping noisily. He held his hand out to help Anders up and then guided the poor mage off to bed.

Alistair watched them until the door was closed, then he turned back to Thomais and Zevran. "Let me get this straight, that's Nathaniel Howe? He seems far too gentle to be spawned from that bastard."

Thomais chuckled. "Yes, though he doesn't believe it of himself. I'm sure Anders will help him figure that out eventually." He leaned on Zevran's shoulder. "They do have the right idea though. It's very late and we have no idea when the Templar are going to arrive." He smirked. "I'd like you to stay out of the way, my old friend. I want to see how they act when their king is not in attendance."

Alistair nodded. "I can see why. Don't worry though," he hastened to assure them, "If they deny you, I'll give the entire weight of _my_ authority to get those mages out."

Thomais stood and clasped Alistair's hand in his. "Thank you, my friend. It's good that we can move on."

Alistair grinned. "I've grown. I understand now that what you did was necessary. I don't want it to hamper our friendship anymore."

Thomais smiled broadly and then was nearly hauled from the chamber by Zevran's hand around his waist.

Alistair sat staring into the fire until he finally heaved himself up with a sigh and left to the guest rooms.

The occupants of Vigil were startled from their slumber early the next morning by the fanfare announcing the arrival of the Templar. Thomais was not happy. "They camped outside our walls until morning I'm sure of it."

Zevran chuckled as he stretched underneath the covers. "Well, don't keep them waiting. It's you they're here to see, after all. I'm going right back to sleep."

Thomais glared at him as he pulled his clothes on. "I'll remember this. Just you wait and see."

"Promises, promises."

Anders was already up and dressed, having steeled himself to the notion of wearing the...costume...Nathaniel kept buried in his trunk. Tugging on Nathaniel's arm, he was all but pulling him out of the bed. "Come on, Ser! You've got to get up, they're here!"

Nathaniel stumbled around the room, pulling on his clothes. "I swear they were waiting for the perfect opportunity to catch us off guard." He grumbled. "Now remember, Anders, you don't have to do anything they say without my permission first. Though, I'm sure they won't force you into anything strenuous, what with the King being here and all," he said as they sprinted through the keep.

Alistair, meanwhile, was still asleep, and dreaming of cheese.

As they all assembled in the main hall, bleary eyed and blinking away the crusted tears, they formed an arc in front of the doors, with the Seneschal and Oghren in the middle, Nathaniel and Anders to the left, and Thomais on the right.

The door to the hall finally slammed open, Rylok leading the way, flanked by two Templar. Carroll, on her left, he recognized, the other was unfamiliar to him.

"Welcome to Vig-" Thomais began.

"I demand to know why we were kept waiting!" Rylok interrupted with a glare. "You don't seem to need these slaves so very badly if you can afford to keep us cooling our heels for so long."

Thomais' eye twitched. "I assure you, Ser Rylok, that we wasted no time getting you inside. You see, most of us were still abed when the horns announced your arrival." His tone was polite, but anyone who knew him could tell he was irritated.

"Still abed at this hour?" She sneered. "My Templar are awake much earlier than that, and the slaves before them. Must be nice to lie about all morning, while other people are working hard."

Thomais smiled blandly. "Yes, you could say that."

Her eyes flicked over to Nathaniel and then to Anders who was kneeling at his feet. "Who told him he was allowed to be on his knees? Slaves are to be on all fours, like the beasts they are." Her lips curled into a cruel grin as she saw his hands clench. There was no missing the way her eyes raked over him, taking in how little the vest covered his upper body and the fact that the material of the pants left little to the imagination. "Though, I must say, it's a good look for him. He practices often, I take it?"

Nathaniel let out a wry chuckle. "I do believe I'm allowed to command _my_ slave any way I want to, correct? And whether he spends any time on his knees or not is of no concern to you. It seems to me like you never saw him in this position anyway, to be so… _delighted_ by it now."

Rylok's hand clenched and she went for her sword and then stopped, startled by the sound of Oghren guffawing. "He's got you there!"

Thomais bit the inside of his cheek to keep his laughter under control. "Now, Ser Rylok, I believe you were here to take a look around and determine if this was a suitable place?"

"I came here to test if you could tame the troublemakers," she snarled. "Hand him over to me for the day. If I determine he has been suitably tamed, then you will have your permits." She smirked. "I even brought them with me."

Thomais shook his head. "I can't allow you to do that. Any commands must be relayed through his current owner, then Nathaniel will decide whether or not to relay _your_ commands to Anders."

"No!" Rylok snapped. "You are not going to keep me from my job. If this mage cannot behave under _my_ commands then he isn't tamed properly and could still turn on you." Her voice turned sweet. "After all, you wouldn't want to wake up with half of your… arm burned off, do you?"

Thomais folded his arms impassively. "We either do this my way, or we can send for the King and do this _his_ way."

"You'd really drag the king all the way out here for something as trivial as this? Just hand it over." Rylok was clearly getting impatient with them.

"We can do what my way?" Alistair stood in the doorway, hair disheveled and wearing breeches with a loose muslin shirt. Seeing all eyes now on him, he yawned and continued into the room.

"Alistair!" Rylok's lip curled. "What are you doing here?"

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "King Alistair, remember that Rylok. I'm not an initiate you can bully anymore. And to answer your question, I was here visiting my friend." He clapped Thomais on the back and grinned.

She took a step backwards and bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty. My apologies. I will remember my place next time. But we are here discussing the suitability of this place to house more mages. The Commander won't see fit to let me perform any tests to see if they have indeed tamed the one they already have."

Alistair hummed thoughtfully. "Well, I can't see any reason why your tasks would be any harder than Nathaniel's. I am going to give him full discretion on what is appropriate for his slave though. Seeing as the man _is_ his property."

Rylok snorted. "If we're not doing this by our determined methods, then we're not doing it at all. I've no time for this middle-man nonsense. Come on." She motioned to her bodyguards. "We're leaving."

The group watched them leave with trepidation.

"Well. That didn't work." Alistair shook his head, looking apologetically at Thomais. "Looks like I'll need to go to the Tower and get them myself. Though, without the papers, it'll be hard, even for a king." He grimaced.

The group remained together, quietly discussing what their next course of action should be. A few moments later Zevran entered through the front door, whistling. "That Templar lady left in a very big hurry. She bumped into to me and didn't even apologize! But why do you all look so glum? I thought today was to be a good day, no?"

Thomais slumped, looking defeated. "Rylok refused test Anders. Not that I gathered it would have been done fairly anyway. On top of that, she took the papers for the others with her when she left."

"You mean these papers?" He pulled a set of folded-up parchment from his pocket and held them up. "These look like ownership papers to me and if so, shouldn't be dropped so casually." He tsked. "Then again, it might be best if the _king_ took a look at these. I'm not so familiar with your Ferelden legal terms." He smirked.

Alistair plucked them from Zevran's hand with a smile. "Thank you."

He shrugged. "It was nothing."

Not even a minute later, Rylok stormed back into the hall. "I want them back! Now!" She glared around. "Which ever one of you slippery-fingered weasels has my papers, give them to me now!" She stomped her foot.

Oghren burst into another round of laughter.

She narrowed her gaze on Zevran. "You! Elf! You slammed into me; it must have been you that stole them. You dirty, little, knife-eared-"

Alistair cleared his throat, and tried his best to not laugh. "I'd mind the insults, if I were you, Rylok. You're not exactly endearing yourself to the Commander with them, nor to me. I gave the elves a place in the Landsmeet, did I not?"

Thomais grinned a little and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "I'd say our audience with the Templar is over now."

Rylok took a step back. "You can't just dismiss me like this!"

Alistair stood. "I believe we can. You aren't the Knight-Commander, Rylok. Oh, and wait for me, would you? I'll be needing an escort back to the Tower."

Rylok paled and rushed from the room.

Nathaniel tapped his fingers on Anders' head. "Do stand up, and follow me. We have a few things to talk about."

Anders nodded and rose, ignoring his protesting knees. "Thank you, Your Majesty." Then he bowed, and followed Nathaniel from the room.

Alistair tapped his chin. "That's a good man. When I return from the Tower with the other mages, I'll be taking his collar off."

Thomais narrowed his eyes. "About that. Alistair, would you follow me? I think we need to have a discussion, my friend."

"Am I in trouble?" Alistair grinned.

"Not yet, I don't think. The collar isn't the issue. That's a wonderful idea but," He led the way to his study and shut the door behind them, "you and I need to have a little talk."

Alistair nodded warily.

"After you get the mages, I want you to take one of them, Jowan, with you…back to Denerim."

"What? Why? I don't need a slave!" Alistair protested.

Thomais raised an eyebrow and tried a different tact. "Have you slept with Anora yet?"

Alistair sputtered and went bright red. "No, and don't see what that has to do wit-"

"Why not?"

He coughed. "She's taken up with that Cousland fellow. Fergus."

"Mhmm. And are you still a virgin?" Thomais grinned.

Alistair rubbed the back of his neck. "Not that it's really your business, but yes, I am. I haven't found the right girl yet."

Thomais started chuckling. "I don't think it's a girl you'll be looking for, my friend."

Alistair blushed even harder. "You don't know that! How could you know what I like? I like women. I know I do."

Thomais put on a very serious expression though he was itching to laugh. "Lampposts, Alistair. You compared licking a lamppost to having sex. If that's not a sign that you fancy things phallic, then I don't know what would be."

Alistair started sputtering all over again. "But I was talking about licking _something_. Just in general, that was the first thing to-"

"You're only proving my point if 'lampposts' was the first thing to come to mind. Sorry, you're not going to win this one."

"So why this Jowan?" Alistair interrupted, eager to turn the conversation.

Thomais sighed. "From what Anders has told me, Jowan is going to take his place as the Tower's favorite. And even not knowing what they did to him, I can't imagine it's going to be easier on Jowan." He rubbed his forehead. "According to Anders, he's a calm sort. Easily spooked. He's going to need a gentle hand and a quiet life and we can't provide that here, Alistair."

Alistair nodded. "I see. I wouldn't exactly call court life calm, but you're right. It's better than this." He grinned.

"Just think about what I said. And see if it makes any sense later. And make sure that you keep this poor soul well fed, and comfortable." Thomais grinned and then shoved Alistair out into the hallway.

On the other side of the keep, Nathaniel waited for Anders to enter their room before he shut the door and locked it. Anders gave him an odd look but said nothing. Nathaniel took a deep breath, then two, then started to speak. "I need you to tell me why she terrifies you so much."

Anders shook his head. "I can't. I can't tell you what she did to me, what it means to be a favorite in the Tower."

"Damn it, Anders!" A soft sound, nearly like a sob. "I _need_ to know. I…" He took a deep steadying breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyelids fluttering shut. "She did something to you. Something that made you _shake_ the entire time she stood there. I need to know."

Anders shook his head again. "Why is this so important to you? Why do you _have_ to know what she did to me? Do you just hate me _that_ much that you need to hear every sordid detail?"

Nathaniel shook his head violently. "This is not about me," he said and received a short bark of laughter from Anders. "This is about helping you! This is about getting _you_ past everything that happened! I just want-" he choked. "Andraste's blood. I just want you to be happy!"

Anders snorted. "Happy? No one wants their slave to be happy. Tell me, Nathaniel Howe, what do you _really_ want?"

Nathaniel let out a shuddering breath. "Maker damn you, mage. I want you. I want _you_ to want _me_. I want Anders, not 'the slave.' By the Maker, I don't want to hurt you again! I want to be able to hug you and hold you and keep you as mine without this sense of duty or those damned papers getting in the way." He took a step forward. "You want to know the truth? I _like_ the power I have over you right now. And I _hate myself for it._ I hate that I enjoy the fact that I _could_ order you to your knees right now and you wouldn't resist me. You'd just… roll over and take it. But Andraste help me, I want you to fight. I want you to challenge me, I want…" He finally broke off and his shoulders sagged. "Maker help me because I'm _just_ like my father."

Anders stared. "Dominance. You crave dominance but over someone that can fight back. But not just a fighter, someone who _cares_ for you… And not just for the sake of _breaking_ someone."

"Isn't that what I _just_ said?" Nate snapped his head up to stare right back.

Anders looked down from his challenging stare and balled his hands into the sheer fabric of his pants. "Well, fair is fair. If you're giving the truth, so should I," he said quietly. "_She_ never liked the fact that _I_ never liked women," he muttered. "She refused to think that it was just the way I am. She did her best to 'fix' me, to make me just like the others who lived for her every word."

Nate's eyes opened and he stared. "She…? That over-righteous hag!" His jaw clenched, and Anders saw the rippling of his cheek muscles.

"She never succeeded." Anders took a step toward Nate. "When she realized she couldn't, she threw me to the other Templar. You see, they never abused the women that way. Babies were too hard to explain away," he said softly. He reached a hand out, touched Nathaniel's cheek. "You protected me from her," he said softly. "You wouldn't let her hurt me. Even when you knew she could have killed you for that comment…"

Anders was so close and he could feel the warmth of his bare chest through his own shirt. Nate took a step back, a sick feeling curling in the pit of his stomach, even as the lust flared and he felt his back hit the door. "You can thank King Alistair and Thomais for that. I just stood there and looked menacing. Anders, please!" He put his hands out and settled them on the mage's shoulders. "Don't do this out of some sense of gratitude. Please, don't do this because you think I, above all people, deserve something."

Anders tilted his head and smiled. "Are you afraid of me, Master?"

That one, damn word. He had to use that one word. Nate hissed, "Afraid? No… I'm not afraid of you Anders. I'm terrified." Then he pulled Anders against his chest and pressed his lips to the others' in a short, fervent kiss. He pulled back, half afraid the mage was going to bolt from the room again, but Anders just smiled lazily, almost catlike, and leaned forward to kiss him again.

"Maker's breath, mage." Nate let out a deep sigh. "You're going to be the death of me." Then he pulled Anders in tight to him, trying desperately to ignore the costume.

"You really aren't your father," Anders murmured quietly into his ear. "If the stories I heard were true, he would have just forced me by now. Forced me for the sake of having dominance over another living creature. So no, Nathaniel, you are _not_ your father."

Nate couldn't hold back the sob that escaped from between his lips as he held the blonde tight to his chest, daring to finally believe those words.


	9. Chapter 8

We're breaking from our regularly scheduled Nanders to take you live to the Kinloch Hold Circle Tower, where Jowan is er… eagerly awaiting us.

And now I'm glad i don't own them ._.

* * *

Jowan shifted, his manacles clinking against each other. Solitary confinement. A rebellious attitude, they'd told him. He'd only acted to protect the young Surana girl, one of his only friends, but that was rebellion. "Do not interfere," they told him… And then they threw him in here.

He was huddled in the corner, clothing torn and tattered beyond repair. The only light filtered in from the small window near the top of the room. There was a grate in the corner that was to be used for relieving himself. When he'd been thrown in here the first night, he'd vomited everything they'd tried to feed him because of the smell emanating from that fetid hole. He shifted again and wished he could scratch the dried blood running down his arms, but the manacles made that impossible. The only thing he continued to thank the Maker for was the fact that he wasn't attached to the wall.

Despite the squalor, his punishment had given him time to think, to come to an understanding. He understood why Anders had acted as he had. _He protected us. He wasn't __**just**__ too stubborn to give in. It was misdirection, keeping their eyes on the troublemaker so they wouldn't roam our way._ But now that buffer was gone and it seemed the task had fallen to him. _I'm glad he's out though. He deserved to finally get out of this place._

The door creaked open and light flooded the tiny space. A small bowl of water and some sort of gruel was kicked across the floor towards him. "Eat. We can't have you dying on us."

He crawled on his elbows and knees toward the water, draining the dish quickly before sucking down the food. It did nothing to ease the gnawing in his belly, but it was enough to keep him going, at least for a little while longer.

His guard threw him a disgusted look and closed the door with a clang, leaving the dishes behind.

He crawled his way back over to the corner, propping himself up with a soft sigh. He was too tired to care, too tired to even cry. And he was going to need his sleep, that being the only thing to give him strength for when the Templar returned.

A sharp kick to his side woke him abruptly from his dreams of freedom. He opened his eyes groggily to stare up at the two armor clad Templar in the room with him. Another swift kick to the ribs caused him to curl in pain.

"See?" one of them said. "Just like that. These mages are tricky, and even with their power suppressed they can still hurt you."

"Yes, Ser." A boot from his other side and he hissed in pain.

"Mages will do anything they can to get free, and that includes making deals with demons," The first guard affected a dry tone, as if this was a lecture. Given how young the other sounded, maybe it was.

"Demons, Ser?" He heard the horror in the initiate's voice and almost laughed aloud. _Demons. The only demons here are the Templar._

"Yes. Demons. This one here is probably already an abomination."

The voices of his parents assaulted his mind, _Abomination,_ they called him. _Monster. Abomination. Demon. Not my son._ No, he wasn't an abomination yet, though it was getting harder and harder to fight off that temptation.

"This one decided to interfere with the punishments of some knife-eared bitch. So we dumped him in here, which means we can do whatever we like to him." He could almost hear the sadistic grin. "It's a pity the blonde got taken. He looked so much more like a woman than this one."

There was a shocked silence and then an awed whisper, "How do you keep them from biting?" It would have been too much to hope that the newcomer would be appalled by the other man's suggestion. Obviously they'd started sharing "privileges" earlier with the new recruits, _Lucky me._

A hand grabbed his hair and hauled him to his feet. "They don't bite. They know what happens when they bite. Isn't that right, maggot?" The hand in his hair forced him to nod and the thought of what was coming next caused embarrassed tears to slip down his cheeks.

He closed his eyes tightly to try and stop them. _It'll be fine. As long as I don't resist, I won't get hurt. I'm just a warm body._ He shuddered._ They'll get bored and leave me alone. _Comforting as that thought was, it also meant they'd be turning their attention to someone else. _No. No, I have to resist. Make them want __**me**__ so they won't go after __**her**__ again. I can't let them go after the only family I have. _He swallowed against the bile that rose in his throat and thrashed weakly, trying to pull from the templar's grip.

"Look how… eager he is." The one holding his hair dropped him and he shivered on the stone floor. "Don't worry, mage, you'll get what you deserve and nothing more." He heard the metallic noises that he'd quickly learned to identify with the Templar simply removing their codpiece, and he whined pathetically.

The new one grabbed his hair and pulled him up onto his knees before forcing his head back down and placing a booted foot on his neck. "Like this then?" "Like this, then?" It left him horribly exposed with his hips high in the air, but he dared not lower them. They'd just hit him until he did what they wanted. The tears dripped from his eyes, mixing with the grime on the floor. Three heartbeats later, he was screaming and sobbing as the first Templar pushed his way inside without even the courtesy of spit.

"Shut him up!" The Templar behind him growled.

The boot on his neck lifted and he was hauled up by his hair again. "Open your mouth, mage!" The command issued from somewhere above his head. He pressed his teeth tighter together, screaming though them as the Templar behind him started thrusting. The back of a gauntleted hand crashed into his cheek. "Open!" the templar bellowed and he miserably complied, not wanting to be hit again.

The man's length forced its way past his lips and the owner grabbed his hair in both hands, thrusting deeply, choking him. He stopped struggling and just shut his eyes, waiting for it to be over. _This won't be the last time._ He thought miserably as he was violated from both ends. _They'll be back…_

When the Templar finished with him, they merely shoved him to the floor like nothing more than the rest of the refuse. He curled up into a miserable ball in the pool of light on the floor and sobbed. _Nothing I can do will change this. Monster. Abomination. I deserve this and I'll do whatever they want, as long as I can keep them away from the little ones and my friends__._

Hours passed. Maybe it was even days. Or maybe it simply felt like that because he hadn't eaten again yet. His eyes opened at the sound of the door. There was a sharp intake of breath and a soft voice said, "What in the name of Andraste did they do to you?"

He looked up and blinked at the sight before him. The man had short cropped blonde hair and the brightest armor he'd ever seen, the metal seeming to glow. This had to be one of the Maker's messengers, come to collect him. "Finally," he rasped out. "You're finally here. Take me home to the Maker. I'm ready."

Alistair stared at the pitiable sight before him and he felt his heart breaking. "No, I'm not…" He sighed and stepped into the cell and carefully gathered the poor man into his arms. "I'm here to take you, but to a better life. Anders gave us your name. I'm taking you and the Surana girl and the Amell boy with me today."

Jowan blinked up at the face he'd mistaken for a holy messenger. "Alistair?" He let out a soft sob. "You came back to us."

"It's King Alistair now," the blonde said quietly. "And you can be sure this will never happen again. There will be a full investigation launched and each Templar replaced with someone I can trust." He trembled with barely suppressed rage. "Starting now."

"Ah." There was a bitter self-mocking tone in his voice. "So the mighty rise higher and the fallen fall lower."

Alistair didn't comment, instead pushing himself up with Jowan in his arms. He turned and nodded curtly to Carroll. "I'm putting you in charge. I'll be sending a full list of orders soon, Knight-Commander, but I trust you to know what to do: Get the filth out of here."

Jowan struggled weakly. "NO! You can't! They don't deserve-" Then he snapped his mouth shut, waiting to be hit.

Alistair tightened his grip on his armful of wiggly mage. "Stop moving. You're making it very difficult to not drop you." He took in Jowan's terrified expression and gave him a reassuring smile. "I wasn't talking about the mages. They're not going anywhere, so please, calm down."

Carroll snapped his heels together, arms crossed at his chest. "You can count on me, Ser. This won't happen again, as long as I'm in charge here. I'll be sure to screen the initiates very thoroughly. If they show any signs of cruelty they'll get hauled right back to the monastery."

Alistair nodded to him again. "I give you full authority to transport anyone you see fit to Aeonar."

Carroll grinned. "Yes, Ser!" Then turned around and started bellowing orders the startled Templar who were loitering around.

Alistair flagged down another Templar. "Bring me Amell and Surana. Now." He then headed down to the docks to wait on his new charges. "Don't worry," He said softly to the man he was still holding, "you'll be alright soon enough."


	10. Chapter 9

Well then. Here's the next chapter, short and to the point.

I -still- don't own the boys, though i wish i did.

* * *

Things managed to quiet down at Vigil after Alistair took Rylock and left for the Tower. Anders was very strict in his new duties, however. Determined to not let a day go by without reassuring Nate of his sincerity and honesty, he cuddled up to the man every night.

One of these nights, however, Nate seemed to be struggling with something, so he settled himself in his master's lap and peered upwards through his bangs. "What's wrong with you tonight? You seem so… on edge." Then he grinned wickedly. "I could help with that tension, if you'd let me."

Of that, Nate had no doubt. He leaned his head back, thumping it against the wall. "Anders," he sighed. "By the Maker, please don't tempt me."

"Why not?" He pouted and shimmied backwards a little to nuzzle Nate's stomach. "You'd feel much better and so would I, I suspect. You'd not leave me wanting."

Nate settled his hand on Anders' head, stilling the others' motions. "I'm sure I would," he murmured, carding his fingers through Anders' loose hair. "And you're right, I wouldn't be so cruel. But what I don't understand is why you're offering."

Anders snorted and nuzzled a little more. "I'm offering for completely selfish reasons, of course. You've given me permission to do so. Am I not allowed to seek your attention anymore then?"

Nate sighed, but didn't stop petting. "I didn't say that, Anders. But- gah!"

Anders decided to stop the affectionate nuzzling and turned to even more affectionate nibbling. "Stop holding back. I thought we'd gotten over the misunderstandings."

Nate tightened his grip long enough to make Anders stop. "I was trying to explain, and then you let your mouth loose on me," he grumbled, staring downwards. "Look, Anders, it's just that I can never be too sure of your willingness, especially with the… collar… oh Maker's breath!"

Anders had grown tired of listening to Nate ramble on about things that didn't matter and took the situation into his own hands.

Literally.

Nate took in a deep breath. Anders was grinning at him impishly and had one hand cupping his balls and the other lightly gripping his erection, both actions performed through his breeches. It had been so long, too long, since he'd been touched and his hips shifted, almost unconsciously. He took in a deep trembling breath and then asked, "Are you sure?"

Anders laughed and answered with a gentle squeeze of his hands.

Nate took a strangled breath and loosened the fingers in Anders' hair, gently petting the mage again. "If this is _really_ what you want..."

Anders returned to his nuzzling, letting that answer the question. He unlaced the front of Nate's breeches and wrapped his fingers around the noble's heated length, earning him a groan and causing those fingers in his hair to clench again. "Nathaniel, how long has it been since you've had _some _kind of release?"

Nate flushed. "Er… Since I came home from the Free Marches, nearly half a year ago now…" he mumbled.

Anders let out a low whine and started peppering kisses all over Nate's hips. "You poor man. You definitely need this. Just relax."

Nate started squirming away and little giggles escaped him. "Maker's breath, Anders. Stop that! That tickles!"

Anders stopped with a mischievous look and dragged his tongue along Nate's erection while his fingers danced over where he'd been bestowing kisses.

This was going too far. Nate's fingers twisted into Anders' hair, his other hand coming down to still those spidery touches. He could feel the mage pulling against his hold; feel the heat of his breath against his skin. "Anders," he growled cautiously, "stop."

Anders stared up at him and with a pout asked, "Why? You already told me I could…" A smirk. "Master."

Maker's breath, that word again! Nate felt his manhood twitch, and by the widening smirk on Anders' face, the mage noticed it too.

"It's nice to know I please you." Anders' lips, a hair's breadth from Nate's skin, twisted into an even _more_ wicked grin, leaving the last word unspoken, teasing him with it. He wrapped his lips around Nate's tip, easing down the rogue as best he could without breaking from the rogue's grip.

Nate's eyes closed and he took in a deep, ragged breath. His hips shifted again and his grip loosened slightly, giving his silent permission for Anders to continue. But the mage pulled away and with a vaguely superior grin stated, "You know, on second thought, I don't think I want to anymore."

Nate's eyes snapped open and he stared for a moment before tightening his fingers again and pulling Anders back to him. "You don't just start something like this," he rocked his hips upward into the mage's face, "and then decide you 'don't want to.' Finish what you started," he growled.

Anders cheered silently at his manipulation and opened his mouth to accept Nate's length. He slid his mouth all the way down, perversely proud at his lack of a gag reflex; the tip of his nose brushed the curly black hair at the Noble's groin.

Nate's toes curled into the bed as he felt the tip nudging the back of Anders' throat. His mouth dropped open and he let out a low moan. "Oh Maker, Anders…" He fought the urge to roll his hips upwards again.

Anders grinned and pulled back, resting his hands on Nate's hips. "Lose yourself, Nathaniel." His hot breath puffed over the noble's erection. "You need this."

Nate stared down at the mage, eyes half lidded and arched his hips upward, fingers tightening almost painfully into the others' hair. "Then stop lecturing," he growled, "and get back to it."

That damn smirk. "Yes Master." And he descended on Nate once more, swallowing the other man to the hilt. Nate let out a strangled moan and his toes clenched up into the sheets again. His hips writhed, meeting Anders halfway, and he couldn't stop staring into those deep brown eyes, which never stopped peering out from the fringe of blond hair.

Anders' fingers skimmed over his hips again and Nate writhed even harder, trying to keep away from them, at the same time driving into that warm, wet mouth even faster. It had been so long, too _long_ since anyone had touched him like this, and he lost it. Pulling the pillow over his face to muffle his yells, he shot his seed down Anders' throat.

The mage swallowed _everything_ eagerly, pulling away with a wet pop to nuzzle his cheek against Nate's thigh. "I did well, then?" The little smile he wore meant he already knew the answer.

Nate pulled the pillow away from his face and took a ragged breath. "Come here," he ordered.

Anders shimmied upwards and draped himself all over Nate. "Yes?"

Nate pulled him in for a deep probing kiss, before he pulled away and said, "You _do_ know I'm going to repay you for that?"

Anders made a happy little noise and leaned forward to kiss the rogue again, when the fanfare sounded from the courtyard, announcing the return of King Alistair. He pulled back and groaned, burying his head in Nate's chest. "Maybe if we ignore them, they won't bother us?"

Nate chuckled and lazily petted Anders. "I doubt that."

Not long after he spoke, there came a knock at the door. "Ser, the Commander is specifically requesting that the mage, Anders, be brought to the courtyard for a special healing project." The unfamiliar voice at the door continued, puzzled. "He also told me to apologise for interrupting."

Nate banged his head against the wall again. "Is nothing in this Keep secret?" He sighed. "Come on, Anders. Let's go."

Anders reluctantly climbed off of Nate, adjusting himself as he pouted mournfully. "Next time we'll close the window." He pointed to the offending piece of architecture. "That's probably how the Commander heard you, Ser."

Nate buried his face in a hand, even as he tucked himself away and slipped a shirt on. "Maker's breath. _Please_ don't let me forget that again." Then he strode out the door, ushering Anders in front of him.


	11. Chapter 10

Don't own the boys, blah blah blah

* * *

Alistair maneuvered the cart into the courtyard of the Vigil, careful to not jostle any of his riders. Jowan sat up front with him and Helios Amell and Tia Surana cuddled together in the back. The two red heads were content to sit back and ignore the world around them.

Thomais stood somberly in the courtyard and called one of the guards to deliver a message before turning back to Alistair with a simple, "Well?"

"Worse than I thought. Carroll is initiating a sweep now. The Templar that were abusing their power are all being shipped off to Aeonar, and he's replacing them with people he trusts." Alistair rubbed his face. "I'm just glad I got there when I did." He glanced over at Jowan. "He was in a right state when I arrived."

Thomais nodded and then stepped out of the way as Anders came barreling down the steps and skidded to a halt right in front of the carriage. "Jowan!" he cried out with some relief. "Andraste's tits, I'm glad they got you out of there my old friend." Then he grinned at the couple in the cart. "I see that romance has blossomed while I was away. Helios, you sly dog." Anders chuckled.

The human turned around in the cart and gave him a soft smile. "Blame Tia. She was the one that snared me."

The elf girl smiled shyly back. "It's good to see you again, Anders. Don't mind us, though. Jowan needs your help more." Her gaze flicked to the other mage.

Anders nodded and his gaze went back to Jowan, taking in the dirt and cuts that covered the other man's body. "Alright, there's no way I can heal these with all this dirt. Come on, my friend. Let's get you to the tubs."

Jowan didn't speak, but his gaze flicked over as Alistair stepped out of the cart and folded his arms. "I'll take him. He's my charge after all, and my responsibility," the ex-templar stated and before anyone could object, he scooped Jowan up from the seat and headed up the stairs.

Anders raised an eyebrow, but wisely kept his mouth shut, even as he noticed the knowing smirk on Thomais' face.

* * *

Alistair set Jowan down on the edge of the tub. "Alright, hop in. I need to find someone that can get you some decent clothes."

Jowan shivered, pulled off the rags he was wearing, and dumped them on the floor. He'd just managed to ease himself into the hot water when Alistair returned holding a bundle of clothes.

"Ah, good. You're already in." Alistair grinned and started removing his own clothes. "Scoot over. A week on the road and a bath will do me a lot of good as well. I smell like horse."

Jowan retreated to the other side of the tub, pressing his back against the stone and pulling his knees up to his chest. Eyes pinched shut, he could feel himself trembling, waiting for the grabbing of hands that he'd come to expect. When those touches never came, he risked cracking an eye open. Alistair was on the opposite side of the bath, soaping himself up, but the ex-Templar didn't seem inclined to make any move toward him.

Alistair caught him staring though and he quickly lowered his eyes. The water sloshed and he whimpered a little.

"Here. You're going to need help washing your back." Alistair murmured softly. "It's going to hurt though, I'm sorry…" He trailed off and began to gently wash the grime from Jowan's back.

The mage wrapped his arms around his knees and trembled the entire time, lower lip caught between his teeth as he muffled his whimpers of pain. It wouldn't do to cry out. It never helped. In fact, there were times that made it even worse. And part of him wanted to trust Alistair, it really did. He'd never hurt him before. But being like this, there were just too many memories that even the few pleasant ones he had couldn't make the others go away.

Alistair eased off on his tending, feeling the tremors that fluttered beneath his touch. Even as gentle as he was trying to be, there was no true way to rinse Jowan's wounds without causing him pain.

And Maker's breath, listening to him muffling himself. Despite Wynne's sometimes scathing tongue, even he'd been allowed the luxury of _complaining_ about being wounded. Jowan seemed terrified to make so much as a peep.

"It's all right for you to cry," he whispered. "You used to feel safe enough to let your guard down around me before. I hope..." He swallowed. "I hope that hasn't changed. It hasn't for me."

Jowan pressed his head to his knees and took several deep breaths before saying anything. "I can't," He said softly.

Alistair sighed. "Alright." He brought the cloth up once more, now soapless, and used it to carefully rinse Jowan's back. "I'd like to change that one day, though." And then he moved away again, leaving Jowan to finish washing himself.

Back in the other corner of the tub, Alistair finished rinsing, and climbed out. "I'll be waiting outside the door when you're done. After you're dressed in these," he indicated the bundle, "just let me know and we'll get you to the infirmary." Alistair dressed in his old clothes, wrinkling his nose at the smell, before he sighed and stepped out

Jowan frowned. _That probably means he wants me to hurry up. _Ignoring his stinging wounds, he scrubbed down quickly, finding a measure of comfort in watching all of the filth floating away in the water. After that, he washed his hair twice before he took a few wobbly steps out, dripping water all over the floor as he looked for a towel.

He sat heavily on the edge of the tub and grimaced as he dried himself off, the now opened wounds discoloring the fabric. He grabbed the clothes from the chair they'd been set in and carefully dressed in the breeches, leaving the shirt for after he was healed.

Alistair stared at Jowan as the mage emerged into the hall. "I thought you would have taken longer," he said as he cleared his throat and tried to not blush. _I do not like lampposts!_ "Though I suppose you _are_ eager to be healed. Come on then, watch your step, and if you need help, don't hesitate to let me know."

Jowan nodded and sort of hobbled slowly along behind Alistair for a few minutes, finally not being able to hold back his pained grunts any longer. Instantly Alistair was at his side, supporting him, helping him walk. "There's no need-" He began.

"Yes, there is," Alistair said quietly, absently petting Jowan's hair. "You need the help, and it's my responsibility to help you now."

Jowan shook his head and sighed. _I can only imagine what the price is going to be for this later._

Alistair helped Jowan hobble his way to the infirmary. However, upon arriving, the door was closed. Alistair raised an eyebrow and knocked. There was a small scuffling noise and some muffled curses heard and then Anders opened the door, looking flushed. "Finally! Where have you two been? What took you so long?" The blonde ushered them both inside.

Alistair took a good look around the room, noting the stacks of beds and blankets, before his eyes settled on Nate, who stood in the corner, nonchalantly cleaning his fingernails with a knife. Alistair's eyes widened as he realized what the scuffling noises must have been and a light blush infused his cheeks.

Needing to focus his thoughts elsewhere, Alistair helped Jowan over to the bed, where he immediately began hovering behind the blonde mage.

Anders shot him an annoyed glance as he started to work on the worst of Jowan's wounds. "Could you please not stand so close?"

Alistair smiled sheepishly and stepped back for a few moments, though he was soon inching his way closer again. The first time Jowan truly hissed in pain, he nearly shoved Anders out of the way.

Anders let out an exasperated sigh. "Nathaniel? Can you please get our king out of here before I'm guilty of regicide?"

Nate chuckled and laid a hand on Alistair's shoulder. "Come on, Your Majesty. He's in good hands."

Alistair's face contorted into a worried frown before he allowed himself to be led from the room. After Nathaniel left him at the doorway though, he paced back and forth, jumping at every sound. A particularly loud whimper had him trying the door, only to find it locked. Alistair took a deep breath and then kicked the door, splitting it down the middle right before he dashed into the room.

]

Jowan froze at the sound of the door breaking, immediately tensing, even under Anders' careful touch. Eyes wide, he shrank back against his fellow mage, barely catching the startled whimper that passed his lips.

Anders, on the other hand, gave Alistair an irritated look, one arm circled protectively around the brunette beside him. "While I understand your need to protect, my king, don't you think this is taking it a little far? He's fine. See? You should know there's a _little_ pain that comes with healing."

Alistair opened his mouth before realizing he was right. Jowan looked completely healed. Clacking his jaw shut, he flashed them a sheepish grin and _ran_ out of the room.

Jowan turned his wide-eyed stare on Anders. "How can you talk to him like that? He's the _king_ and you just sassed him! He could have you executed for no reason! Don't you remember what the Tower was like?"

Anders snorted. "Everything I've heard about him says otherwise. What were you just saying about how he treated you on the trip back?"

Jowan flushed and mumbled, "He did his best to treat my wounds, with what he had. Wouldn't even let me walk anywhere."

Anders grinned. "See? That's not the type to execute for no reason. And that makes me all the more certain he's not going to do anything to you, either." Anders took to studying his fellow mage again.

"What?" Jowan asked with a soft chuckle, noticing the scrutiny.

"There's something _different_ about you. I just... can't place it."

Jowan stole a glance at the doorway and then lowered his voice. "While you were in solitary that last time, I discovered a new type of magic." There was excitement in his hushed whisper. "It… _bypasses _mana."

Anders furrowed his brow. "It...what? That would mean you could use whatever this is without being restricted."

Jowan nodded. "It still has a cost, though. Life energy. Blood. And how much depends on the spell that you want to use. I discovered it after the Templar had us study the Entropic arts. After using life drain on the twentieth rat, it seemed logical that there should be a _next_ step. And there was! I spent some time playing with the technique, but I _think_ I have it down now." Jowan grinned nervously at his friend but there was no denying his excitement at the discovery.

As he listened to Jowan speak of the spells he'd managed to discover through this new magic, Anders realized something about the nature of the spells. He bit his lower lip and glanced through the doorway, where the splintered remains of the door still clung to the frame. "You could have used what you learned to escape. Why didn't you?"

"Because you weren't there anymore." Jowan gave him a half smile. "You… protected us and watched over the rest of us by keeping their attention on you. I couldn't do any less. If I escaped, who would have protected Helios and Tia? I had to stay, if not to protect them, then to protect the little ones. You remember how the Templar's… appetites were."

Anders embraced his friend, knowing full well what he would have had to have done to take his place. Not wanting to keep the conversation heavy, he chuckled. "It's too bad Mr. Wiggums wasn't there to help. Or at the very least, keep you company."

Jowan blinked. "Mr. what?"

"Mr. Wiggums!" Anders grinned. "He was my cat. Well, sort of. He kept me company in solitary a lot, and would sometimes bring back mice. I miss that cat…" Ander sighed fondly and sniffed.

"What… happened to him?" Jowan asked cautiously.

"Turned into a rage demon. Took out three Templar, though. Dear old Mr. Wiggums." Anders sighed again. "I've thought about getting a cat while I'm here. One that's truly mine. But I haven't had the time to see if there's any about the Keep that I could take in."

Completely invisible to the mages, Nate slipped away down the corridor. _Anders likes cats, does he? He's right. There's bound to be one somewhere here in the Keep. I'm sure I can find him one._..

Not long after Nate departed on his search, Alistair was back in the doorway, clearing his throat to get their attention. "Anders, a word?"

Anders hurried over to the doorway. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Hold still." He put his fingers on Anders' collar, muttering quietly to himself. A few seconds later, there was a soft "pffft!" noise and the collar broke into pieces. At the mage's shocked look, he found himself unable to keep from grinning. "Congratulations, Anders. You're a free man."


	12. Chapter 11

Yadda yadda, still don't own the boys.

* * *

Anders sat on the bed, fingering his throat where the collar used to be.

"Alistair did that for you? Its official then, is it?"

Anders turned to look. Nate was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, and there was an odd bulge under his shirt. "Yes," he said softly. "I'm really, truly free. I can walk outside, or to Amaranthine, or to Denerim and not get stopped unless I use magic." He smiled faintly and then he tilted his head. "Nathaniel, Ser, what is it you're hiding?"

"Oh! This. The beast was being so quiet I almost forgot he was there." Nate reached into his tunic and pulled out a scruffy orange tabby cat and held him out to Anders. "He's not much to look at, but I remember he was my sister's kitten before I was sent off. So he's tame, and very affectionate." He smiled as the cat tried to lick his fingers.

Anders' eyes opened wide and he slid off of the bed, holding his arms out for the cat. Holding the creature to his cheek, he listened to it purr. "I think I shall call you Ser Pounce-a-Lot." He smiled. "So… he's for me? Really for me?"

Nate smiled and nodded. "He's really for you. Now. Let's see about getting your things into your room?"

Anders blinked and set the cat down for a moment. "But I thought… This morning, you…"

"I thought that once you were free, you'd no longer want to stay here." Nate said softly, bitterly.

"You thought wrong." Anders grinned. "I've been in here so long… This is my room too. I…" He blushed and ducked his head as he retreated towards the bed. "I'd like to stay. And I think you need me to." He laughed.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if it wasn't for me you'd need a new pillow every week or so." Anders pointed out. "You're a cuddler, Nathaniel."

Nate blushed. "I thought you slept through that," he mumbled.

"I was always awake before you. I only let you think I was asleep so you wouldn't get up and leave me."

Nate looked thoroughly mortified. "I…" he recovered quickly. "One night you called me 'Nate'. Do you remember that?" He took a few steps forward.

Anders nodded. "Yes, on our way to Amaranthine. Why?"

Nathaniel stepped even farther into the room and settled himself on the bed, opposite Anders. "I'd like to hear you call me that again. You don't have to call me master, never did, though you tend to use it for your advantage, you wicked man, and Nathaniel just seems so formal."

Anders blushed and smirked. "It will take some getting used to," he said softly. "After all this time, I-" He was cut off in the next instant by Nate's lips on his. He let out a gasp in surprise, but instead of advancing, Nate retreated.

"I'm sorry." The noble turned to get off of the bed when a hand on his arm stopped him. "You're a free man by order of the king now, that was too bo—Mmmfff."

Anders, for the first time, pressed his advantage and wrapped his arms around Nate as he kissed the other man. The cat forgotten, he parted his lips slightly in invitation and gripped Nate's shoulders, pulling slightly to get the dark haired man back on the bed.

Nate took the invitation and threw caution to the wind. He swept his tongue out, plundering Anders' mouth as he slowly crawled his way over the mage. When he was straddling the other man's lap he finally pulled back, leaving Anders quite breathless. He took a deep shuddering breath of his own before rasping out, "Tell me you want this. I don't… I'm not going to make the same mistake as last time. I need to _know_ that you truly want this. If you don't, I will leave right now, I promise you."

Anders stared up at Nate and blinked a few times before laughter bubbled up from his chest. "Nathaniel, I trust you."

Nate sat, tense, his arms quivering on either side of Anders' head. "This isn't funny, and that doesn't answer my question," he nearly growled.

Anders shivered. "What would you like to hear? Would you like me to tell you I've been dreaming of you since the night we went to Amaranthine? Would you like me to tell you that I've wanted this, but been so scared of what would happen that I've avoided it? At least, until this morning, that is." He swallowed. "Nathaniel, I trust you. I want you…" He reached a hand up to run it through Nate's hair. "Please. Besides, you did say you were going to pay me back for this morning." Anders smiled.

Nate held out for a few moments, giving Anders time to reconsider before he swept downward and proceeded to kiss Anders breathless again. His hand skimmed down Anders' side, before coming to rest lightly on the mage's hip.

Anders squirmed a little at the sensation, but tried to lose himself in how gentle Nate's kiss was. _No one has ever treated me like this before…_ he thought as he ran his fingers through Nate's hair again, encouraging the rogue to continue what he was doing.

Nate pulled back a little. "Here, Anders. Come on, out of those robes." He helped Anders sit up and started messing with the buckles and straps.

When Anders was completely naked, Nate grinned and dipped down again, paying close attention to Anders' neck, swirling his tongue along the skin where the collar used to be. The hand that wasn't propping him up traced its way down the middle of Anders' chest; first pinching one nipple, then the other, before sliding over taut muscles and coming to rest on Anders' growing erection.

Anders groaned and arched his body upwards, wanting to feel more of Nate's skin against his.

"_Look at this! He's so eager for it already boys!" A cruel laugh, and a rough squeeze had him whimpering. He couldn't help it. His body wanted this, wanted the heat, the touch; he craved this contact. Just as they'd trained him._

Anders' eyes flew open and he let out a small sob, before shaking his head to clear away the images. _This is Nate. He's not a Templar. He cares about me._ Nate's hand squeezed gently and began a soft stroking motion.

_The hand on him tightened painfully. "You want this? Tell me, whore!" A hand slapped his face and something cold and large nudged his entrance. "Beg me for it, and I'll go easy on you."_

_He whimpered again, opening cracked and bleeding lips. "Please." His voice a croak, a whisper. "Please. I want you."_

_An ugly laugh. "See, boys? With the right treatment, the fire goes right out." The Templar shoved the hilt of the sword into him and he screamed._

Anders let out a frightened yell and scootched backwards on the bed, away from Nate as he trembled violently. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I can't. Please…"

Nate sat back on his heels before inching forward and pulling Anders into a hug. "Shush, Anders. It's fine. It's alright. As much as I want you," he chuckled, "I don't want you at the expense of your sanity. Please, calm down."

Anders clung to him, trying to even out his breathing and stop the tremors that ran through his body. "I trust you. I do," He sobbed out. "I just can't… the memories. They're always there."

Nate sighed and stroked Anders' hair. "It's alright. I promise."

Anders leaned into the stroking as his trembles ceased. "Thank you," he said softly, reaching a hand up to his neck again. "This is going to take longer to get used to than I thought." He sighed and nuzzled Nate's chest. "Keep holding me, please?"

Nate nodded and squeezed his arms a little tighter. "Anything you want, Anders. Anything you want."


	13. Chapter 12

ARGH. Short chapter is short, sorry about that. I still don't own any of the boys and please please please _**leave a review**_ if you like the story! I need constant feedback to get better, so tell me what you like, don't like, what I'm weak on (Other than length) just please help!

* * *

Meanwhile, on the road between Denerim and Vigil's Keep, Alistair started setting up camp for the evening. He laid out the bedrolls and bustled around trying to get dinner started, all the while keeping an eye on Jowan, to make sure the mage didn't end up hurting himself. He pulled out the chopped lamb he'd pilfered from one of the cold rooms at the Vigil and tossed it in the pot he'd stuck on top of the fire.

Jowan stared. "Ser, what are you doing?"

Alistair looked up from where he was dumping more… things into the pot. "Oh uh, making dinner. You're hungry right? I know I am."

"Ah, yes, Ser, I am." Jowan wobbled his way over, taking a moment to watch as Alistair seemed to simply be adding whatever he grabbed next from his pack into the pot. Hesitating a moment, he rest his hand on the king's shoulder. "With all due respect, Ser, I overheard some people speaking of your cooking. If you don't mind, I'd like to try my hand at it." The king shouldn't be made to do his own cooking anyway.

Alistair chuckled. "That's fine with me. My cooking will kill us all, I'm sure." He retreated from the fire, content to let Jowan work. As he watched the mage, he couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. He had been made well aware of his ineptitude at cooking, but that still didn't stop him from wanting to learn how to get better at it.

Jowan, on the other hand, seemed to have a natural talent for it. He never once saw the mage measure his ingredients, doing everything by taste or with a critical eye. Wanting to get a closer look, he shuffled back over, peering over Jowan's shoulder to watch the stew starting to bubble merrily away as Jowan continued to sniff and taste herbs before tossing them in.

"Where did you learn to cook?"

Jowan let out a yelp, the dried plants spilling from his hands into the pot. A crackle of energy flared up around his hand as he spun around and started scrambling away as he tried to put as much distance between the two of them as possible. His eyes had gone wide and his breathing hitched.

Alistair stumbled back a step or two as well. "I'm sorry. Jowan, I'm sorry." He held up his hands, backing further away to give the mage the space he needed. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Jowan let out a whimper and shivered, trying to get his breathing under control. He wrapped his arms around his chest and took deep gulping breaths. When he could speak again he said, "I'm sorry, Ser." He ignored Alistair's apologies. "This was my fault. I'll make sure dinner isn't ruined."

Alistair rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Stop apologizing. This wasn't your fault." He shuffled backwards, farther away from the fire to give Jowan more room to breathe. "Please, continue. I'll just be...over here. Out of the way." He pointed off in a random direction. "Like I should have been in the first place," he muttered to himself.

Jowan inched forward cautiously and resumed his task, his gaze still flicking to the other man whenever he had a spare moment.

Thirty minutes later, Alistair dipped his spoon cautiously into the bowl of stew the mage had presented to him and took a tentative nibble.

Watching him from a few steps away, Jowan wrung his hands nervously, his mind flitting over all manner of reasons for Alistair's silence. Or rather the one big reason: he didn't like it. What his mind was really worrying over was exactly how the man was going to show his displeasure.

Another moment of silence. Another spoonful. The king chewed thoughtfully for a few moments before breaking into a grin. "This is great! Nearly perfect, in fact."

"Nearly, Ser?" This was it. He'd done his best but it still wasn't up to the standards Alistair expected. Taking solace in the fact that he tried was going to be of little help when his punishment came.

Alistair nodded and rummaged around in his bag before pulling out a wedge of cheese with tiny holes all through it. "Could you add this to it next time?" He spoke like a child wondering if they were going to get scolded for asking.

Jowan goggled at the wedge of cheese for a minute before clearing his throat. "What is it?"

"It's a type of cheese from Orlais." Alistair said excitedly waving it around. "They called it… Lorraine, I think"

Jowan frowned, wanting to taste it before adding anything to the food he was cooking, but decided to not press his luck. "I… Yes, Ser. Anything you want, Ser."

Alistair's face lit up with delight.

Jowan continued to stare on in confusion, especially as Alistair eagerly returned to his meal. That had been...unexpected but at least he seemed happy enough. Feeling a pinch in his stomach, he rested his hands against it to try and stave off the feeling. Alistair was ladling seconds by the time the pain had him feeling light-headed. "Ah, Ser?" he said hesitantly, hoping what Anders had told him was true. "May I have a bowl of my own?"

Alistair stared at him, spoon raised halfway to his mouth. "What?"

Jowan dropped to his knees and lowered his eyes. "Sorry, Ser. I should know better than to ask."

"I'm just wondering why you asked at all." Alistair lowered his spoon and continued, "Of _course_ you're allowed to have some. Eat as much as you want! You need to gain muscle after all. Can't have you wasting away."

Jowan flinched. _So __**that's**__ how he wants me. Strong. Healthy. Able to fight. To resist._ "Yes, Ser." He slumped.

When they'd finished their meal, Jowan tidied up while Alistair settled himself into his bedroll on the _opposite_ side of camp.

Jowan watched from his bedroll until he was certain the other man was asleep. Quietly as he could, he rose and crossed to the other bedroll, crawling his way underneath the covers, pressing his back to Alistair's chest. His shivers never ceased but he stayed put. He was determined to pay his Master back in the way he _knew_ was going to be required of him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he could do it on his own terms. Taking a deep breath and gathering his courage, he rolled over and began running his hands over Alistair's chest.

Alistair made a deep noise in his chest, almost like a purr, before rousing from his slumber. Cracking an eye open he jerked away with a curse. "What in all the Maker's Hells are you doing!"

Jowan squared his jaw. "Paying you back for what you've done for me."

Alistair stared at him, his face a mixture of pity, anger, and exasperation. "You don't owe me a thing! I did what I did because it was _right_, not because I wanted something out of it. Besides, I… I like women, Jowan."

"That never stopped any of the other Templar."

"Maker's Breath." Alistair let out a soft exhale. "Go back to your bedroll, Jowan. I'm not going to ask anything of you. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you. You can sleep in peace." He placed a hand on Jowan's shoulder and gently shoved the mage away. "Go to sleep. Over there." He closed his eyes and left a bewildered Jowan wandering back to his own bedroll.


	14. Chapter 13

OH GUYS. I'm so sorry for the delay! It's been hell trying to get everything written and posted and with getting my new laptop set up, and being sick and just asdlkjasdf. So here it is!

And I still don't own the boys.

* * *

"Anders."

The blonde mage looked up from his patient's broken leg. "Yes, Ser, Commander? Is something wrong?"

The infirmary had been rearranged to Anders' liking. The beds were aligned on the walls and there was a central fixed bed that he used to determine the extent of patient's injuries before treating them. Nate was currently in a corner, idly cleaning underneath his nails with a small knife while the mage did his work. His presence insured nothing but the utmost respect for Anders from the soldiers he ended up healing.

Thomais lounged against one of the beds. "We've been having reports of a disturbance in the Wending Wood to the south. You're coming with me."

Nate stuck his knife into his belt and pushed off from the wall. "I'll go gather our supplies then, Commander."

Thomais fixed him with a flat stare. "No. You're staying here, Nathaniel. I'm taking Anders and Oghren. That's it."

"What?"

"Have you suddenly gone deaf, Nathaniel? You. Are. Staying. Here." Thomais was not amused. "I want you to regain the trust of these people and you can't do that gallivanting all over the countryside after me."

Nate narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Commander, I-"

"Don't you want Anders to have more independence?" Thomais interrupted. "If you keep shadowing him, he'll never be a normal citizen."

Nathaniel shut his mouth with a click.

"That's what I thought." Thomais shot him a smug grin.

Anders looked between them for a minute, obviously confused on what to do, before he wilted a little. "Nathaniel…"

"I know," the rogue said shortly and strode from the room, boots far more silent than they should have been.

Thomais rolled his eyes. "Meet me in the courtyard in half an hour. That should give you plenty of time to placate your surly lover."

Anders blushed and nodded, not trusting his tongue to make proper speech, and then he bolted.

The soldier stared down at his half healed leg and grinned ruefully. "I suppose my body will finish healing itself the rest of the way then. Could I have some time off while the leg recovers, Commander?"

Thomais sighed. "Yes, fine."

* * *

Anders hovered indecisively outside of their room before he took a breath and stepped inside.

Nathaniel sat on the edge of the bed, fingers laced together in his lap with a pensive expression on his face. "Our Commander," he began, "is a skilled manipulator."

Anders nodded, not knowing what to say.

Nathaniel continued, not bothering to look up at Anders. "He knows exactly which pressure plates to push and how to keep them from blowing up in his face…." He sighed and finally looked up. "Please be careful out there, Anders. This isn't some romp through the bowels of the Keep," he pleaded.

Anders nodded again and tucked himself into Nate's embrace. "I promise, Nathaniel. I may not have the best grasp of my magic yet, but I'm far from helpless." He lifted his chin and nuzzled the juncture of Nate's jaw and neck. "You made sure of that. I can handle a mace quite well now."

Nate nodded and tightened his arms before releasing the blonde. "Go on then. Don't keep the Commander waiting."

Anders sighed and retreated from the room, unaware of the despair in Nate's eyes as they followed him down the hall.

* * *

The fighting with the bandits was brutal, ugly, and over far quicker than Anders had been expecting. The Sylvans on the other hand were a different matter. How do you kill a burning tree? After bashing ineffectively at them with their weapons, Thomais ordered them back and pushed Anders forward with a muttered, "Wynne used fire on the normal ones, see if you can conjure ice."

Anders opened his mouth as if to say something, and thought better of it. Taking a deep breath, and letting the frost coat his fingers, he thrust his arms out and called upon the wellspring of mana within him. The sylvan froze solid, as did the grass and everything thirty feet beyond the animated tree. Anders stared at his hands and trembled. His knees felt weak and if the commander hadn't forced him to swallow a vile tasting blue potion, he would have collapsed to the ground.

"Come on, Anders. On your feet," Thomais said, supporting him for a moment. "I can't have you falling down on me."

"Sorry, Commander." His tongue felt thick, his words slurring together. He felt tired, like he'd just run a marathon with the Templars whipping at his back. "I'll keep that in mind the next time I don't know what I'm doing."

Thomais leveled a look at him. "Don't sass me. The only way you're going to learn how to control it is by using it in the field. This is why I didn't bring Nathaniel along. He would have stopped me from testing you. Now come on."

Anders flinched. "Sorry, Commander."

Thomais just waggled a hand at him. "Just keep that in the forefront of your mind. I don't want you slacking off, and keep that magic pointed away from us."

Anders opened his mouth to say something and then shrank back. _They can put the collar right back on me and ship me back to the tower._ He reminded himself. _Just because the king took it off… That doesn't mean you can sass the people that have the power._ He gave only a nod, and then fell back to the rear of the group. He completely ignored the bandit the Commander was interrogating on the bridge until he felt a surge of mana and saw an elf woman perched on the cliff, vines and roots wriggling around her.

"Why are you here?" She demanded of them.

Anders stared, open mouthed at her and Thomais groaned. "Great, Dalish," he muttered before raising his voice. "We're here to investigate the Darkspawn," he said mildly, "and whatever has been destroying these caravans."

There was a spike in the mana he felt, just before she sneered. "So you're working for the shems! Tell them to release my sister, or more of them will die! Now leave this place and consider _this_ a warning." She raised the roots around her, and when they disappeared, she was gone.

Oghren grinned at Thomais. "You said that was a Dalish? Just as prickly as ever, I see. Are we going to have to make peace between her clan and the Darkspawn?" Then he laughed, like the whole thing was a joke.

Thomais flashed him a grin. "Not this time, I think. We'll probably need to find out what happened to her sister though, especially since I don't want to have to kill her if she's the one that's been behind the raids."

Anders stared. "Kill her?" This from the man who spoke to him of tolerance and giving a chance to even those the rest of the world deemed unworthy. And at that thought, something else struck him. "But she has magic! Unfettered magic and she can control it! She could teach me!"

Thomais raised an eyebrow. "Assuming we can even get her to talk to us, how do you expect we convince her to work around shems, hm?"

Anders shook his head. "I...don't know, but we have to try!" Then he flinched back and said quietly, "Right?"

Oghren laughed again. "Boy has a point. If we can get her to not fry us on purpose, maybe she can teach him how to not fry us accidentally. Besides, be a shame to waste a rack like that, Thomais. Haven't seen one of those _that_ nice since we were running around with that witch, and the redhead."

Thomais stared between them, and Anders twiddled his fingers nervously as the seconds stretched on until, "Fine," Thomais sighed and rubbed his forehead. "We'll try to convince the Dalish that we need her." He shook his head. "You're in for a treat. The Dalish are more stubborn than the Templar."

Anders laughed. "Somehow, Ser, I doubt that."


	15. Chapter 14

oh look, a bit of plot and a lead in! And I don't own anyone here except Henri, Tia, and Helios. They are mine. Everything else belongs to Bioware.

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Nathaniel stalked through the halls of the Keep, searching for the Commander. His boots made little to no noise on the hard stone floor and he wore a thunderous expression. The rogue was not a happy man and wanted nothing more than to throw the commander against a wall and demand an explanation.

He found Thomais in the study, pouring over a book that he'd never seen before. Clearing his throat he said, "I just heard something very interesting from Oghren, and I wasn't sure whether he was delirious from drink, or whether he was telling the truth. So I decided to find you and ask." He kept his voice tightly controlled.

Thomais looked up from his reading with a tired expression. "Well, ask away. But make it quick. I've nearly managed to translate this."

Nathaniel clenched his teeth and let out a long and steady breath. "I heard that you not only took Anders into a hostile situation, you brought the hostile _home_ with you. And in _addition,_ you managed to get all of your gear stolen by an intelligent darkspawn. You went into a mine, to go after this… _killer's_ sister, and put all of you in danger for someone you had no obligation to!"

Thomais raised an eyebrow and set the book aside. "Yes. We did manage all that in a week, didn't we?"

Nathaniel stared, opened mouthed at his Commander's nonchalant expression. "It sent all of you to sleep! Knocked you out without a second thought! It could have killed all of you, and you're _calm_ about this?"

"We're still here, Nathaniel. It didn't kill us. We made it out with nothing that Anders and Velanna couldn't heal." Thomais sighed and leaned back in his chair. "What would you have done in my place, hrm? Killed the Dalish woman for thinking her sister had been stolen by humans? Ignored the silverite mine and a chance to wipe out more of those things? Coddled Anders and wrapped him in lamb's wool to keep him safe? You know what he's been through. He's tough enough to handle being a Warden."

Nathaniel actually growled. "He's never encountered anything like this before. At least the Templar kept him alive."

"And that's better than what this intelligent Darkspawn did to us?" Thomais sighed and pressed his lips together. "There are things worse than death, Nathaniel."

Nathaniel sputtered, anger deflated. "I'm going with you next time, Commander," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. "I'm not going to let you get him killed."

Thomais raised an eyebrow. "'Not let.' That sounds and awful lot like you're trying to tell your Commander what to do, Nathaniel Howe. If I want to leave you at this Keep, I will. I'm your Commander. Don't forget that." He pulled the book back in front of him. "You're dismissed."

This was not an argument he was going to win. Not now, anyway. This riled, it would be easy for Thomais to twist his words and get the better of him. Hell, he already had. No, what he needed to do was clear his head and make his wishes known when his emotions weren't riding so high, and the best way to do that would be to pulverize some helpless straw dummies in the training area.

The sound of birds chirping floated through the open window, while the fantastically warm air swept around the room, making its occupants sleepy and lazy. Well, except for one of them.

"No!"

Slim fingers slapped Anders on the back of his head, bringing him abruptly back to attention. He frowned and released the shaky grip he had on his mana. "What did I do wrong this time?" he asked mulishly. He twisted his neck around so he could stare out the window and _not _at his irate teacher.

"You need to keep a firm grip on your power," Velanna lectured. "You don't want to have a fire blast sputtering about while you're trying to use it, do you? And don't pout. You're a grown shemlen. Not a da'len. I'm not going to treat you like one. And you should be well beyond the pouting stage."

Anders only responded with another pout and sought to reach for his power again. He was rewarded for his efforts by another slap. He winced away and rubbed the back of his head, glaring at her for an explanation.

She just glared back at him. "You pulled too much. You release that and you would roast everything around you. Try again."

He sighed and shuffled over to the window, letting the breeze wash over his face. "We've been doing this for three hours. Why can't we take a small break? Please?" He turned wide, innocent brown eyes on her. This ploy had worked the last few times he'd tried it and this was no exception.

She sighed as well and dropped her hands. "Fine. Fine. But tomorrow we are going to work an extra hour. You _need_ to get a better grip on your power, shem. You'll end up killing one of your friends if you don't. Now scat." She waved a hand at him. "You've been moping about the outdoors long enough. You're _worse_ than a da'len."

He flashed a cheeky grin. "One of my many talents, my lady. Why don't you join me? My friends wouldn't be nearly as apprehensive of my lessons if you would sit with us, and maybe, one day, when their collars come off, you could teach _them_."

She pressed her lips together in a firm line. "Let it be known that I am doing this under duress, and only if it will make you _concentrate_ on your lessons."

He chuckled. "Duly noted. Now come on!"

Tia and Helios were already in the kitchen, cuddled up in front of the great hearth, eating a very dense looking brown bread.

Anders had Velanna by the arm, preventing her escape as Tia rose to her feet and embraced the Dalish woman. "I heard what happened," she said simply. "I'm sorry your sister is gone."

Velanna stiffened in the embrace and pulled away. "You're _sorry_? How can _you_ be sorry for what I've gone through?" She shook her head. "Elvhen slavery ended centuries ago in Ferelden and the mages were brought to heel at the same time. Our freedom came at the cost of yours and you're _sorry_ for me?"

Tia and Helios exchanged a _look_ and Anders chewed on his cheek, second guessing his decision to invite her along.

"What's this?"

Anders turned around and silently thanked the Maker for Henri's sense of timing. "Henri!" he said with some relief. "This is the newest Warden. Her name is Velanna. She's Dalish."

Henri beamed at Velanna. "Welcome to my kitchen. If there is anything you want, or need, then you come here and I will give it to you. These doors are always open to anyone who wants something to eat or," he gave a subtle wink to Anders, "even a place to hide."

Velanna blinked and stepped away from the over-enthusiastic Orlesian. "Don't touch me," she said reflexively as he reached out to crush her in a hug.

Henri pouted, but let his arms fall. "Ma chère dame, if there is ever _anything_ you need from me, let me know and I will be most glad to help you."

Velanna eyed him with some suspicion. "Anything?"

Henri nodded.

"Then can we be left alone?"

Henri's face fell almost comically before he turned his frowning expression on Anders. "La dame est grave?"

Anders nodded. "I'm sorry, Henri. You can still bring us some of those, ohh, what are they called? The pastry things with the sugar and honey on top."

Henri beamed. "Aaah! You want the beignet! Yes, indeed, I will get those out to you right away. Feel free to move in front of the fire, yes."

The four mages settled on the hearthstones, Velanna blatantly ignoring Henri's attempts to get her to eat. "So what do you… talk about?" she asked, keeping her hands on her lap. He voice wavered, seeming a bit ill at ease.

"Mostly how things have been progressing lately," Anders replied. "There's a lot that's happened for us over the past few months. It's a little hard to adjust."

Helios nodded. "Going from slaves, to being as good as free… And having King Alistair take steps to send our tormenters to Aeonar. I never thought I'd see the day when Rylock got what was coming to her."

"I wouldn't count her out of the game just yet." Tia shook her head. "The bitch is persistent. She wants you Anders. She'll find some way of getting out."

Anders shook his head vigorously. "Nathaniel would kill her. If she so much as _touched_ me, he would gut her."

Velanna stared. "Nathaniel? The brooding man with the funny shaped nose? Why would _he_ do such a thing? I've gotten the impression that he doesn't much care for anyone or anything."

Anders bit back a chuckle. "He's a very reserved man. He doesn't often show his emotions unless they're very intense." He gave a lopsided grin. "And his emotions usually run to the intense side around me. He's my former owner. When Thomais purchased me from the Tower, he gave me to Nathaniel of all people. I was terrified of him at first," he confided, "but he's been good to me, and even got me a cat!"

Velanna gave a nod. "Still doesn't explain why he'd go to all those lengths to keep you from this woman. Now that your magic isn't being hampered, can't you take care of her yourself?"

Anders shook his head. "There's some sort of training the Templars do. It drains all your energy. I can't even light a candle around one of them if they're doing that." He shivered and rubbed his arms. "They did it all the time while I was in solitary. As for Nathaniel…" He grinned again. "He's very possessive of me and I wouldn't have it any other way. Protecting me is his way of showing he cares."

Velanna huffed. "You are a free being. He has no right to be _possessive._ You should go to the commander and get him to set this man right."

Anders opened his mouth to reply but Helios beat him to it. "Has anyone heard from Jowan?" he blurted. It was obvious he was trying to change the subject.

"Jowan?" Velanna asked.

"He's a friend of ours from the Tower," Anders replied, settling back. "He went with King Alistair to the palace in Denerim. I haven't heard anything, but I'm sure he's still taking his time and getting adjusted. He'll write us as soon as he's able." He shot Helios a look that said: _We'll be talking about this later_, and said, "Alistair wouldn't keep that from him. Wouldn't keep _us_ from him."

Tia smiled. "I didn't think he would. Now, Velanna," she said, changing the subject again, "what have you been teaching Anders? Is he being stubborn about learning the proper ways to use his newfound freedom?"

Velanna nodded and began explaining the process while Anders sulked and ate beignet after beignet.


	16. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: You know the drill. I own Notheeeeeng.

**Dear sweet jesus. I'm so sorry about taking so much time with this, and I'm still not happy. It feels too rushed and just over all blegh and crappy. Sorry about how long it took me, and It'll be another long while till the next chapter. I just had to give ya'll _something._**

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"_Dear, Anders  
_

_I know it's been quite some time, but I've been so busy as the King's personal assistant, I've barely had time to think."  
_

Alistair stared at him. "You want to what?" his question ended in an unmanly squeak and his jaw hung a little slack.

Jowan shrank back. "I only thought that if I am not to be a bed slave at least I could be useful, Master, in letting me do something to repay your kindness. If it is your wish that I repay you in other ways..."

"No!" Alistair nearly shouted, eyes a little wild. "It's fine. Acceptable. Yes. You can keep my chambers clean and carry messages for me and," he grinned wryly, "mother me, if that's how you want to do this."

Jowan nodded, relieved. "Yes, Your Majesty. I would also like to not be housed with the other servants. I'm still of lower rank than they are. Might I have rooms near yours? Or even sleep on the rug of your own, where I belong."

Alistair frowned. "You can have your own rooms. I'm not going to treat you as anything less than human, Jowan. You get a bed and a room all to yourself. And if any of the servants try something with you, tell me and I'll have then punished. If I find out about it from anyone other than you, I'll see if any one of them wishes to challenge me for ownership rights." He cracked his knuckles unpleasantly.

Jowan shrank back, determined to hide everything so as not to upset his new master. "Yes, Ser." he said, obediently.

"_I'm cleaning his rooms and acting as a page and housekeeper all rolled into one. He keeps forgetting to eat when he's been up working for too long, so I bring food to him and make sure he's eating enough. Being a king is a lot of paperwork I've noticed. He and Anora seem to get along though, despite the history between them."  
_

Jowan was sitting in his room on the edge of his bed debating on whether or not it would be safe for him to head to the bath house today. His door was partially ajar, just so he could hear if Alistair shouted for him. He shifted, getting ready to hop off the bed when he heard Anora screaming. "COWARD! You and Cailan both were bloody cowards! Whenever there's a problem, you run for it!"

"Oh, like I'm the only one who runs, Anora?" Alistair's tone was scathing, "Just because your running involves a-"

"One more word, Alistair." Her voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "One more word and I swear to the Maker I'll have you castrated!"

There was a moment of near silence; he could only hear a soft murmur, and then the sound of heavy footsteps pounding down the corridor. The door to his room burst open and Alistair streaked in, slamming the door behind him. "Hide me!" He said in a strangled voice, eyes wild.

"Ser?"

"Just let me hide here! Please!" He'd never seen Alistair beg before and he quickly nodded. The blond man huffed out a breath in relief and made a dash for the space beneath Jowan's bed.

Jowan blinked and shook his head. _It's not my place to tell my master he's crazy_. He kicked idly at the edge of his bed, trying to appear innocent, should Anora come charging in.

"_The servants leave me alone too. I was very surprised by how much I'm ignored by everyone, even the elves ignore me!"_

Most of the time when Jowan was in the baths the other servants left him alone. They ignored him, which suited him just fine. So as he lathered soap into his hair he was unprepared for the press of hands to his back, forcing him down into the water. He was up a few moments later, eyes burning and gasping and sputtering for breath. The water that had gotten forced up his nose stung and he kept snorting to get it all out.

"See girls?" a sneering masculine voice said. "It_ can't_ hold its breath. So I wonder, why is the King keeping it?"

There were nervous titters in the background as he tried to regain his senses and a spiteful feminine voice spoke up, "Maybe his mouth isn't the virtue the King is keeping him for. You should find out for us, Moren."

Someone grabbed his arms and hauled him out of the bath, feet touching cold stone before his torso was pressed over the side.

"Hold him." The one named Moren said.

He thrashed. He knew it wouldn't do any good, but when he heard breeches slithering to the floor and hands pulling him apart he kicked and twisted and kept dunking his face in the hot water, but at least it was keeping his attacker off of him… for now. He saw stars when he was cuffed over the head and the resulting vertigo caused his movements to slow to a halt, chest heaving from his exertions, and blood pounding in his ears.

"I see you like it rough. Good. I'll be sure to fulfill your every expectation." He could feel the hands, hear the sneer, and he wiggled weakly.

The pain never came though. The hands holding him were gone, and in their place was a pair of rough hands and a soft voice. "Shhh. It's alright. I chased them off. You gave the lad a black eye though. This way you'll have proof when you tell King Alistair what happened in here."

Jowan shook his head violently, spraying water everywhere. "Please don't tell him!" he ducked his head and finally managed to get all of the soap off of his face, and he blinked blearily at the brown-haired man standing in front of him. "Oh! Noble Ser, I'm very sorry. I'll go and fetch you a towel immediately! I'm very sorry I got your clothes wet."

"My clothes being wet is the least of my issues." The noble laughed and stripped off his shirt. "It will dry on its own."

Jowan's eyes darted nervously from side to side as the noble started pulling his breeches off as well. "No!" he nearly shouted. "No, please. Let me get you a towel!" _Anything to get out of here without him getting angry at me too…_

The noble paused and looked up at the frightened look on Jowan's face. "Oh." He said softly. "You're the one. I'm sorry. Here…" he hauled his breeches back up and slipped his shirt back on. "My name is Fergus."

Jowan nodded. "I know who you are, Ser. I see you with Her Majesty all the time and…" he trailed off.

Fergus chuckled. "It's safe to say it. We may keep the nature of our relationship a secret from the nobles, but Anora and I like to keep things honest at home."

Jowan nodded, and inched away to wrap himself up in a towel and sit on one of the benches. "How did…" he trailed off again.

"Rendon Howe murdered my family." Fergus sat opposite him. "Even my wife and son. But when I met Anora for the first time, months after the slaughter, I felt like I could start over again. Their entire marriage is a sham. This was the best way to keep the people happy, and they both knew it."

Jowan nodded, even though it seemed like Fergus was talking to himself, rather than to the mage.

"Alistair has yet to find someone to make him happy." Fergus mused. "If my little brother had lived, maybe then…"

"Little brother?" Jowan blurted. "But I thought the King…" he trailed off, not sure of how to finish his statement.

Fergus laughed. "Obvious to everyone but you and the King then is it?" He shook his head. "You'll see. And so will the King, I imagine." The he stretched and stood. "You might want to get back to your chambers soon. Would you mind if I walked with you? I want to make sure those bastards don't try hurting you again."

"_So, I guess that's all for now, Anders. I'll be sure to write to you again if anything exciting happens. It doesn't look like much ever goes on here._

_-Jowan"_

Jowan set his quill down with a sigh, and pushed the parchment away from him. _I'll send this off tomorrow._ He thought tiredly, and rubbed his eyes. Shouting in the hallway made him pause though. He stood and unlatched the door, before peeking outside.

"There's a riot in the Alienage!" A brightly dressed fop was dashing up and down the corridor, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Again?" Alistair pushed past the hysterical courtier and strode down the hall, metal boots clanking.

Jowan shook his head with a sigh and closed his door again. With one last glance at his letter, he crawled into bed and blew out his lamp, slipping into a peaceful sleep.


	17. Chapter 16

**What's this? More Magic's Slave? (Sorry it's so short!) Legasp! It proves that I really do love you guys XD Improved writing is still improving. Soyeah. Enjoy? Oh yeah, nothing belongs to me. Notheeeeng. –gnaws off arms in order to flee-

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Anders shuffled around the room he shared with Nate, sweeping and straightening up. The blond was practicing the mental exercises Velanna had given him as he swept and felt very proud of himself when he actually remembered them all. Giving a small grin of triumph, he started them again, when there was a polite knock on the door. He stilled and cocked his head to the side. "Yes? Who's there?"

"Thomais." Came the answer, and the tow-headed mage hurried over to the door. After he pulled the door open, Thomais stepped inside with a slightly harried expression. "I need you to find your best set of robes, Anders. It seems the Banns have all come to swear fealty to me and we have to have a _banquet_." He said that last word with no small amount of disgust. "Varel says all the Wardens have to be there, or I wouldn't be asking you."

Anders flinched. "Ser, if they find out I'm a mage they will hang you. I know _some_ magic now but there's no way I'd be able to defend you properly. After they hang you, they'll slap another collar on me and ship me right back to the Tower. Please, Ser, you can't ask me to do this," he pleaded.

Thomais rubbed his forehead. "I'm not asking you, Anders. I'm not going to have to make this an official order, am I?" He crossed his arms over his chest and quirked an eyebrow at the reluctant mage.

Anders's jaw rippled with as he clenched it. "If it is your order, Ser, then I'll be there."

Thomais sighed with no small amount of relief. "Good. Tell Nathaniel the next time you see him again," he paused, "and tell him to wear his best armor. I don't want to see him in anything other than the strongest thing he can find," then he was out the door and gone.

Anders gripped the broom handle with enough effort to turn his knuckles white. _Calm. Breathe. Remember the exercises. Let it go…_ He took a deep breath but his mana flared and the broom was reduced to ash. He stared in dismay at the small pile on the floor and fled the room. He needed to find Nathaniel. Fast.

He moved through the halls of the Keep nearly hyperventilating as he dodged soldiers and servants in his search for Nate. _Nate. Nathaniel. He can help. Calm. Breathe. Oh, Maker._ He found the rogue talking quietly to one of the elven servants near the barracks and he felt like crying with relief. "Nathaniel. Our room. Help?"

Nate frowned when he saw the look of near panic on Anders's face. "What happened? What's wrong?"

"Just… Need calm. Please, Nathaniel?"

"Yes, of course. Excuse me." He took Anders's arm gently in his hand and steered the distressed mage back to their room, oblivious to the looks from everyone. When they stepped through, he noted the pile of ash on the floor and set Anders on the bed. "Now, what's wrong, Anders? What happened to frighten you like this?"

Anders took a deep, shuddering breath. "We have to go… to a banquet tonight. The Commander… the Banns are coming to swear fealty to the Commander. Varel says we both need to be there. All the Wardens need to be there."

Nathaniel enveloped the shivering mage in a hug. "It's alright. I won't let them hurt you. They won't find out what you are, and they won't collar you and take you back to the Tower. I promise. Nothing short of death will take me from you, and I'll kill as many as I have to if they try to take you from me." He nuzzled the blond's neck and pressed and gentle kiss on the other man's shoulder.

Anders nodded and buried his face into Nate's shoulder, breathing deep the scent of the other man, letting it calm his nerves. "I'm… okay now. Nathaniel, thank you. I'm not sure what I'd do without you."

"Flounder along somehow I'm sure."

Anders pulled back just enough to tilt his head up for a good look into Nate's eyes. "You've helped me so much. I just don't want to think about where I'd be if not for you." He tilted his chin up a little more and pressed a soft kiss to Nate's lips, a kiss that the rogue reciprocated quickly.

"Anders," Nate's voice was thick.

"I know. Lie with me for a bit? I don't want to be alone right now."

"Of course."

* * *

Anders tugged at the collar of his healing robes. His palms were sweaty and he couldn't stop shaking.

"Stop pulling at that." Nate murmured.

"I can't help it!" Anders hissed back, "it feels like a damn noose."

Nate bit back a chuckle. "You sound like a groom on his wedding day. Come on, mage, it's not that bad. Just eat, look menacing, and these stuffy nobles will stay well away from you. I promise."

"You say that now." Anders tugged at his collar some more. "Just you watch. Something bad is going to happen and we're going to end up right in the middle of it." He huffed and gripped Nate's hand tightly in his own.

"Anders?"

"I'm afraid."

"It's alright. You're allowed to be afraid. Remember what I told you though," Nate squeezed Anders' hand briefly, "I'm not going to let them take you."

"I hope so…"

"There." A small trumpet sounded, "that's the cue for us to come in. We'll go in, eat and then when we're done making small talk we can run. Alright?"

"Alright." Anders took another deep and nervous breath before stepping into the main hall. The sight that greeted him left him speechless for a long moment. Each of the huge tables was groaning underneath the weight of all the food piled on top, and each of the Banns was engaged in a whispered conversation that thundered in his ears. He wasn't aware that so many people in one place could create that much _noise_ when they weren't even talking in a normal tone of voice!

Then he noticed the Templars lined along the sides of the hall and almost fainted.


	18. Chapter 17

**Oh look. You don't get to see what's going on in the dinner yet. We interrupt our crying Anders for some even more pathetically cute Jowan. :3**

And as per usual the boys don't belong to me, oh and... have some Fergus :'D

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**

The weeks and months flew by at the castle in Denerim. No one much bothered Jowan anymore, not after the stunt Fergus pulled and not after Alistair got his hands on the perpetrators. The only reason he didn't have them flogged and imprisoned, was because Jowan made a private plea on their behalf. Therefore, the king had to settle with just prison. He wasn't going to let Jowan be any more put out than the poor man already was.

"Ser?"

"Yeah, Jowan?" Alistair was stooped over his tiny desk; trying to make sense of the treaty he'd been given. This was a lot harder than it sounded, especially when one was reading by candlelight.

"I just wanted to remind you, Ser, that you forgot to eat today." Jowan stood against the doorframe bearing a plate of cheese and crackers.

Alistair gave him a weary smile. "I know. I just," he rubbed his face, "it's these damn treaties." He waved an arm at the paper-covered table.

Jowan moved into the room and set the plate of cheeses on another small table. "Would you like me to organize them for you?"

"Oh, would you?"

Jowan nodded, and started sorting out the treaties by country, when one of the notices on the desk caught his eye. "Ser?"

Alistair had his mouth full of cheese when the mage turned to look at him. "Hrmmm?" He quickly swallowed, "What is it?"

Jowan cocked his head to the side as he held the paper out for Alistair to take. "I don't think this one is a treaty, Ser."

Alistair frowned but waved his hand before he picked up some more food. "Why don't you tell me what it is?"

"I… if you insist Ser." Jowan frowned at the paper as he perused the contents. "This one looks like he's claiming to be your older half-brother, and therefore more suited to the throne than you are."

"Maker's breath. Give me that." Alistair rolled his eyes and took the proffered sheet of paper. "It's documented times that King Maric was seen going in and out of the Pearl and the names of all the women he slept with." Alistair shook his head. "I don't see how this is foolproof evidence!"

"There's more, Ser."

"What?"

"Yes, uhm. Seems like the late King Cailan was just as…"

"Whoreish?"

"I wouldn't say that. But yes, just like your father was. There are a number of papers here from women claiming their babies are his, and they should be moved into the palace." Jowan peered at the papers in his hands. "I'd say very few of these are actual treaties and the rest are papers from people claiming to be your relatives. Ser."

Alistair chewed on his food thoughtfully for a few moments before he stood. "I need ale. Lots and lots of ale. Come with me?" He pouted just enough to get Jowan to sigh, and nod in agreement. With a quick grin, he grabbed the mage's arm and hauled the poor man down to the kitchen.

Alistair rummaged around in the cold room for a bit and produced two mugs of ale. "Here you go!"

"I'm sorry, Ser. I don't…" Jowan protested.

"Ah, well, more for me then!" Alistair threw the first one back, gulping noisily until the mug was empty, before he started nursing the second one. "This just isn't fair, you know? I thought that after Thomais had put me on this stupid throne, I could just rule, and be done with it! That there wouldn't be any more of this… horse-shit."

"Ser, I…"

"An' he's wrong!"

Jowan blinked, and cautiously stepped up next to his king. "Ser, I think maybe one of those was enough for you."

"You think I can't hold my beer?"

"No, Ser. But I do think you need to stop drinking now." Jowan tried to gently take the mug from Alistair's hand, and squeaked when the ex-templar closed a hand over his wrist.

"Thomais is wrong. I don't like lampposts." Alistair nodded emphatically and drew the mage closer to him. "I like youuu!"

"Ser, I really think you've had far too much to drink. I think it's time we get you to bed, and you'll regret all of this on the morning."

"No I haven'! And No won'!" Alistair reached out with his other hand to bring Jowan's face to his, kissing the terrified mage. Jowan froze, and then tore himself away, sprinting down the hall and far away from the man who'd broken his promise.

Alistair woke to the sound of someone shouting at him. He rolled over and buried his head in his pillow, almost gagging on his own tongue. _Maker's breath, I've got to stop drinking like that._ There was blessed silence for a few moments before he felt an excruciating pain in his kidney. He rolled back over and opened his eyes just in time to see a fist connect with his face. "Damn you! Who keeps hitting me!"

"Do you have any idea where I found him?" Ah. Fergus. Right.

"Found who?" Alistair groaned and sat up, stemming the flow of blood from his nose and getting another punch to the gut while he was tilting his head back.

"Jowan!" Fergus looked beyond angry. He was full of righteous indignation, and it looked like he was going to keep taking his fury out on his king. The noble pulled his fist back and let fly another punch.

"What about him?" Alistair asked after he recovered from the punch to the head. He staggered to his feet and was knocked right back on his ass by an armored foot. "Would you stop hitting me?"

"Maybe after you realize what you did to that poor boy," Fergus punched him again. "I found him crying in my room, of all places!"

Alistair coughed and drew in a wheezing breath. "Then tell me what I did that was so dastardly, you have to wake me up with a kick to the kidneys?"

Fergus jabbed a finger in his already sore chest. "You kissed him. You grabbed him, and forced a kiss on him!"

"I did what?"

"Maker! Alistair, don't you remember what was done to him in the tower? You can't just force yourself on him like that. You have to get him to come to _you._" Fergus paced around the room, running his hands through his hair.

"Wait, what? Who says I want any more of… _that_ to happen again?" Alistair squawked, "I just wasn't in my right mind, that's all!"

Fergus snorted at him. "If you call declaring your affection for the man in front of the whole kitchen staff not being in your right mind."

"I was most definitely not in my right mind if I did that." Alistair rubbed his forehead. "Maker, how do I fix this?"

"Fix it?" Fergus looked like he was ready to start hitting again. "You declare something like that to a man who's never known anything like this in his life and then your first thought it how to _fix_ it? There is something wrong with you." The noble sat down on the bed next to him and sighed. "Alistair," he began, "if you want to stop hurting him you have to start being honest with yourself. I know what you think, and what Templar training shoved into your mind, but you need to look past that. I'll keep your mage occupied for the next few days while you sort yourself out." Fergus then cracked his knuckles. "But I swear to the Maker, if you hurt him again, I won't hold back."


	19. Chapter 18

**Oh look, another one? So soon? This really means I love you guys :P As usual I don't own any of the boys, just my AU plot and I really hope you guys are still enjoying this, even after my sporadic updates. I told you I wouldn't quit. I'm going to finish this fic if it's the last thing I ever do.**** And yeah, short, I know. Sors. D: **

**Omg. Updating a week earlier than expected because of love i got from a person on the kmeme. THIS IS FOR YOU.

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The only thing keeping him moving forward was Nate's hand on his back. "Nathaniel, please. You… Templars!"

"It's alright, Anders. Just relax. Remember what King Alistair did. He got rid of Rylock and her cronies. They won't hurt you anymore. Remember that." Nate kept pushing the mage forward, one step at a time into the dining hall, still murmuring reassurances. "Just because they're Templars, it doesn't mean they know who you are. They're probably not from the Tower anyway. Relax. You'll do fine."

Anders took a deep breath and started recounting his meditation lessons. His shaking stilled and he exhaled slowly. "You're right. It doesn't mean they've come after me. I'll just have to not use any magic at all, unless we have an emergency."

"Then let's pray there isn't an emergency," Nate chuckled.

Anders nodded, very glad that the meditations worked to calm him down this time. He did _not_ want another episode like the one that destroyed the broom earlier in the day. Taking another deep breath, he stepped away from the hand at his back and walked casually over to his seat, Nate trailing a bit behind him. He took his seat next to Oghren who looked... clean? "What happened to you?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Thomais made me clean up," the dwarf grumbled. "Seems my usual wait for a rainstorm was too long."

Anders laughed. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure there will be plenty more opportunities to get properly dirty again, especially if he's serious about going back out into the wilderness to see where this… ravine is."

"Oh, you mean the one those mud-wallowers were talkin' about?" Oghren squinted up at him.

"That's the one," Anders responded with false cheer. "We'll be heading out shortly after this blasted dinner disaster, I think. I just don't really feel like getting dirty again. I feel as if I've only just gotten really clean."

"I think the Commander would be heading out _now_ if Varel wasn't keeping him leashed," Nate said wryly, with the barest of nods towards the head of the table.

Thomais was seated with a surly expression on his face, with Varel standing to his left and Zevran seated on his right. Anders muffled a chuckle and stretched his arms upward, maybe just a bit _too_ casually before slipping them under the table and giving Nate's hand a squeeze. The rogue gave him a reassuring look and squeezed back before starting to eat.

When dinner was over, the Banns and the Templar filed out, Anders having nearly forgotten about them until they detatched themselves from the walls. Velanna snuck out as soon as possible, leaving Varel, Zevran, and the Wardens alone in the room-Or so they thought. The doors swung closed of their own accord and a shimmering barrier rippled across the surface. While the warriors in the room settled into fighting stances, Anders stepped forward to run his fingers over the barrier. The blue light crackled and sparked and threw his arm back slightly. "I might be able to take this down. I'm not sure though." He squinted at it a little.

"Work on it, Anders." Thomais' eyes shifted from side to side. "I want to know why we're locked in. If our jailers would be so kind as to show themselves?"

"And why would we do that, my dear Commander? Our job was just to kill you and your Wardens." A female voice floated through the room.

"I like to see the faces of the people sent to kill me," Thomais replied dryly. "It lends some reality to the situation."

An amused laugh sounded right by his ear, and Anders caught a glimpse of a lean and blonde elf woman with a dagger to Zevran's throat, before she faded from view again. Zevran laughed. "You think you can keep this up my dear?"

"Zevran dear, I'm not sure _you_ can keep this up. I'm surprised you didn't realize what was going on as soon as the doors closed. We practiced this together many times, after all." She laughed again.

"Ah, so that's who you are. Congratulations on getting the jump on me, but I have a feeling it will not be for long." Anders watched the elf grin, barely catching the jab of his elbow, and then the woman flickered back into view and slumped to the ground. Straightening his arm slid the blade there back into place. "Poisoned as well. Even I have to take some precautions now and again."

The rest of the Crows hidden in the room leapt into view and the battle that followed was short and ugly. Oghren brained the last of them with his axe and laughed, "Why can't we ever have a normal dinner without people trying to kill us?"

Anders shrugged and performed a small cleaning spell on his clothes. "I'm not sure, but now that I have time..." He turned to the door, and probed it a moment with his will. "The mage that did this is still alive somewhere. But I think I can take it down and the mage will get an extremely large amount of backlash when I'm done."

Thomais nodded. "Do it."

Anders swallowed and probed the door again, finding the source of the energy. With a bit of effort, he overloaded the focus and broke the seal on the door. "There."

The doors swung open outward and the Templars rushed in. He saw the look in their eyes, saw them sense his magic, and then felt it draining away. "I've got the mage that did this!" the lead Templar announced as he grabbed Anders' arm, hauling the man upright. "It's back to the Tower for you, apostate."

In a flash, Nathaniel had an arrow pointed at the man's head. "He was set free by King Alistair himself. If you wish to thwart the will of your King, then by all means, take him. But I will put an arrow through you if you try."

The Templar took a step back and let go of Anders. Nate rushed forward and hugged the mage to his chest, before picking the smaller man up and leaving the hall for their quarters. He'd report to Thomais later. For now, his mage needed him.


	20. Chapter 19

**OH LOOK A CHAPTER. AM I NOT WONDERFUL? -GURGLEDEATH-

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When it came time to visit the cleft the hunters spoke of, Anders was nearly back to normal after his ordeal with the Templar at dinner. Thomais had Zevran interrogating the woman that had tried to kill them, so he was taking Anders along with Nate and Oghren to see what was going on with the darkspawn crevasse.

"Uh, Commander? It's not that I'm judging your leadership skills by any means..." Anders laughed nervously, "But don't darkspawn usually live underground? And fighting them on their own terms might be disastrous, wouldn't it?"

Thomais turned around. "We're only here to investigate. Unless something happens, I don't plan on chasing any darkspawn into their holes."

The look of relief on Anders' face was almost comical. "Thank the Maker." His relief was cut short however by the sight of someone... "Commander!" he pointed a finger, "It's a dwarf, and she's being drug down on the bottom, there!"

Thomais turned on his heel and dashed down the rickety wooden stairs as his Wardens followed, readying their weapons and in Anders' case, loosing fireballs on the lot of them. A short, ugly fight later had Nathaniel helping a dwarven woman to her feet.

"Well that was close. For a moment there, I thought I was really about to join the Legion of the Dead." She grinned at them and then winced.

"Are you alright?" Nathaniel's eyebrows drew together in a worried knot.

"I might have a cracked rib, but it's hard to be sure. Everything hurts." She braced herself on the rogue and then straightened, waving him off.

Thomais' eyebrows rose and he said, "Anders, heal her." However, the mage was already in the process of doing so, ignoring her protests.

"No, no, I'm fine. I just need to catch my breath. Anyway, I can't chat for long. I should probably go back... as foolish as that sounds... see if there's anything I can do." She tried to shove Anders away from her, but he shook his head and healed her anyway.

"Back where?" he asked softly as he sent the gentle healing energy through his hands and into her body.

"The old fortress of Kal'Hirol. There's something going on there. I think the Darkspawn are breeding an army. The legion went to investigate, but Kal'hirol proved to be too much for us. It was a massacre." She looked down at her hands and then up at Anders. "And now I... I'm the only one left. Thank you."

"If you want us, we'll help you. You don't have to go alone." Nathaniel smiled at her. "Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Sigrun," she snapped her head up at Oghren, "And I'll kindly ask you to leave me be. Warrior caste getting too fat down in Orzammar? Need some above world exercise to keep you in," snort "fighting trim?"

"Duster trash," Oghren _actually_ sneered. "She's Legion of the Dead, Commander. We shouldn't be wasting our time here."

Thomais snorted. "When I met you, Oghren, you were a disgraced warrior with your face in a tankard. Don't give me this kind of lip."

Sigrun let out a laugh. "Oghren? _The_ Oghren? The one that Branka couldn't stand being married to?" She sneered. "Couldn't even keep a smith caste woman satisfied. You're a waste of a man, and a piss poor warrior."

At a quick nod from Nathaniel, Anders moved himself in front of Oghren before the dwarf could open his mouth. "Oghren, please. Just leave it be. You're a Warden now, and that's all that matters, remember? No past. That's what they told us."

"Anyway," Sigrun continued, "how can you help? They destroyed the Legion, and when I saw them dragging off some of the women... well... you can imagine I wasn't going to stick around for _that_."

"Good decision. And it's like Anders said," Nathaniel spoke to her. "We're Grey Wardens. Our imposing elven friend over there is the Commander."

"Wardens? Huh. That's Convenient. I guess the Ancestors had a hand in this, after all. Alright, I'll show you where Kal'Hirol is. Safety in numbers and all that." She grinned again and stuck out her hand.

"Perfect!" Thomais said, before reaching a hand out to shake hers.

"Excellent, with your help destroying the darkspawn goes from impossible to simply improbable." She laughed.

Anders too, let out a nervous laugh. "We've got ourselves an optimist, I see." Then he swallowed nervously and stared at the entrance to the cave in front of them. "Uhm, Commander?"

"What is it, Anders?"

"It's dark down here... and heavy. And dark. How common are cave-ins down here, do you think? Is this a bad time to tell you I'm claustrophobic?" The mage continued babbling until he felt Nathaniel's arms wrap around him in a hug.

"You never had a problem the last time I took you underground, Anders." Thomais gave him a stern look. "Why is it an issue now?"

"Trouble?" Anders stared incredulously at his commander, "It's not like I had much choice! You weren't going to _let_ me go back. It was a _learning experience_," he spat. "I had nightmares for a week afterwards!"

"Permission to take him back to the Keep, ser?" Nate stroked his hair and he calmed a little, but not much.

"Denied, Nathaniel. I need you here with me." Thomais turned to Oghren. "Take him back to the Keep and send Velanna out when you get there. I'm going to need at least one mage with me." He gave Anders a whithering look. "And tell her to pack poultices; her healing abilities leave a lot to be desired."

Oghren grumbled, but gathered up his gear. Nathaniel on the other hand, glared daggers at Thomais. This was going too far, and he was sure to give the commander an earful of it, all through their journey underground.

Anders shivered, before giving Nathaniel a hug. "I'll be alright," he whispered in his beloved's ear. "I'm more worried about you. Don't let her get to you." And with this cryptic bit of advice, Anders stepped away and followed Oghren back to Vigil's Keep.

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When they arrived back at the main hall Anders went searching for Velanna, and the relief he saw on her face at seeing him was quickly overshadowed by her mask of indifference. Though, "Are you alright?" she asked him, giving him a good look over. "You didn't overdraw yourself again? Do I have to give you _another_ lecture about that?"

He smiled at her concern. "No, no. I'm alright. I'm just... I can't deal with caves very well. The Commander sent me back for you. He wants you with him here." He pointed to a place on the map that Thomais had insisted he bring along.

"Can't you just take me there?"

"Oh, no. I... uhm... I'm not going back there. Ever." He felt his face flush and his eyes darted nervously.

Velanna narrowed her eyes. "Foolishness. As long as you don't venture underground, you're alright, are you not?"

"I suppose so. However, I really don't want to have to make that journey twice more. I have faith in you, Velanna. You'll get there." He smiled nervously at her, and then he fled from the room thinking, _What in all the Maker's hells what that about?_


	21. Chapter 20

**And other, do you love me yet? I'm hoping to get another one out next week. So relax and be of good cheer, Renegade will start updating too, I hope.**

**UGH. Sorry for the length of time it took to get this up, I'm having issues updating any Dragon Age story and it drives me bonkers.**

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Alistair took Fergus' words to heart and he planned for the next few days to stay locked in his room and not talk to anyone. There was a lot of soul searching he needed to do, and the panicking castle be damned. Anora could handle it.

The most important thing he needed to determine was if Thomais was right or not, and after he locked himself in his room for a day, he realized it was not the smartest of ideas. So, in the middle of the night, when he could sneak out of the castle... he went to the Pearl.

In retrospect, this was probably the worst thing he could have done and he knew Fergus was going to have his hide if the older man ever found out. He would just have to make sure that the last Cousland _never_ found out.

The whole thing was highly embarrassing anyway. Fergus would just laugh at him... after punching him again.

When he stepped in the front door, hooded and cloaked to hide his identity and saw the place was virtually empty, he let out a huff of relief and inched his way to the front desk. "Um... hi. I need... um..."

"First time?" Sanga kept her smile in check at his nervousness.

"Yes!" he blurted. "No! I mean..."

"Your brother came here often, and so did your father. It's nice to see the family patronage continuing." She marked something down in a little book.

"No! I ah... I'm just... I have something I need to figure out," he mumbled. "Please don't tell anyone I was here?"

"Of course, Ser. We have a strict privacy code. Is there anything in particular you would like?"

"Particular?"

"In your woman, ser. Blonde? Busty? Elven? Your father was particularly fond of our Elven beauties."

"Nonono. I'm looking for..." he trailed off and mumbled incoherently.

"Ser?"

"Man. Black hair. Grey eyes. Shorter than me."

"I see. Ser, if you'll pay your fifty silver and go to the last room on the left and wait, we'll send him right on in." Sanga gestured down the hall and he was aware of her eyes following him until he disappeared through the door, after he dropped the coins on her desk, of course.

Alistair twiddled nervously and bounced on the balls of his feet, before sitting on the edge of the bed. When no one showed up after a minute or two, he slipped his breeches off and kept a wary eye on the door in front of him. After a few more minutes passed, he actually started to relax and think about why he was here.

Jowan.

How did he feel about the mage he'd rescued? Protective? Absolutely. Fond? Yes. But was it more than just a fondness for a friend? Was he truly attracted to the Jowan? _Am I rationalizing any feelings away by adding them under that protective feeling? Am I staying away because I don't want to hurt him, or because I'm not attracted to him?_ He closed his eyes and pictured the smaller man's soft grey eyes and black hair and felt a small, involuntary smile tug at his lips.

From there his mind formed a new image for him. Jowan, spread out on the royal bed. Naked. The mage's face was red from a blush, and chest heaving from exertion and desire. Alistair's face flamed and his groin stirred with excitement, but he held onto the image. Oh yes. _I think that answers that question. Oh, Maker. What do I do now?_

He was so caught up in the vision playing in his mind that he never heard the door open. He didn't even realize someone was in the room until he heard, "Oh, very nice."

His eyes snapped open and he saw a man with grey eyes and black hair standing at the foot of the bed. This man looked nothing like Jowan. All for the better since Alistair suddenly found himself unable to breathe for all the guilt assaulting him.

"First time with a man, hmmm?" The... whore... asked him. "I think we'll start off with something not too out of the box then..." He went down on his knees right in front of Alistair and the king... panicked. He jumped up from the bed, narrowly avoiding the man in front of him and yanked his breeches back up before making a run for the door.

_I can't do this. Not to him. Not to Jowan. Too much has happened to him already. I don't want this without him!_

Alistair didn't stop running until he'd made it safely back to his room where he dove under the covers and stayed there for the next three days, only venturing out for food occasionally.

When he finally emerged to Anora's screaming, he looked a little worse for wear, but had a determined expression on his face. "Let it go, Anora. I don't have time for this right now. There's something I need to do."

"I don't think so, Alistair. Your friend put you on the throne so you could be a KING. Not so that you could run and hide and leave me to deal with your messes when things got tough." Anora was red-faced and waving papers in his face.

"That wasn't why," he said, irritably. "I had some thinking to do and-"

"I don't _care_ what you had to do. When you're the king, your personal life falls secondary to _running your kingdom_," she spat.

"I... of course. Your right. I'm sorry," he apologised. "But right now, I have something very important to do. I'll get to those papers right after, I promise. Just leave them on my desk." He pushed past her and into the hallway.

"What is so important you're ignoring this?" she called after him.

"I have someone I need to apologise too!"

"Alistair, you bloody idiot."

He ignored her last comment and concentrated on searching for Jowan. He needed to apologise, needed to find the man and explain everything, and he hoped the mage wouldn't run away from him this time. After he'd exhausted all of Jowan's other haunts, he headed for the kitchen. Relief broke over his face when he saw his quarry seated at a table, chewing thoughtfully on a buttered roll. "Jowan," he said softly, "can I talk to you?"

He bit his cheek to stop his smile at the delightfully startled expression on the grey-eyed man's face. Jowan swallowed the bit of roll in his mouth and said in a very soft voice, "Whatever you wish, Ser."

He took a seat next to the bewildered mage and took a deep breath before speaking. "Jowan, I'm sorry for what I did to you the other night. It seems I don't even know myself very well." He quirked a smile before continuing, "I've done some thinking over the past few days and I just wanted to tell you," here his face grew very red and he started stuttering, "I... I wanted to tell you that I l-l-like you. A lot. I'm very fond of you, Jowan." He cleared his throat and rubbed his forehead. "Ah, I'm mucking this all up. Jowan, I care for you. A lot. R-r-romantically. I... think I love you, Jowan." The red-faced king bit his bottom lip and watched Jowan's face, bracing himself for fear or rejection.

Instead, Jowan simply said one word, "Why?"

"I... I don't know," Alistair admitted. "You're... beautiful. Handsome. One of the gentlest people I've ever met. You are one person I can't see myself without." He shook his head, "I'm sorry to... dump all this on you. I should have thought more about what to say. You don't believe me, do you?"

Jowan shook his head. "It's easy to believe that people want to use me, especially men who've claimed to like women, want to take what they want from my body. However, the fact that you want to _give_ is unbelievable to me. I'm sorry, ser." Jowan cringed a little, and Alistair knew the poor man expected to be hit.

"Then I'll prove it to you," Alistair declared. "I'll prove what you mean to me. What I've discovered you mean to me. I'll take it slow. I won't push you into anything. I'll ask and wait for a yes before I do _anything_." Then he stopped and smiled, "This is new to me too, remember?" and he reached a hand out, palm upwards. "I think this is a good place to start. May I hold your hand, Jowan?"

The mage looked at the hand in front of him, then at the soft smile on his king's lips and nodded.

Alistair's beaming grin could have lit up the room. He took Jowan's hand in his, stroking the palm gently. After a few moments he simply said, "Thank you."

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Anora stepped inside the room she shared with Fergus, a small smile playing about her lips. "You'll never believe what just happened, love." She gave him a kiss and started toeing off her shoes.

"Alistair finally confessed to Jowan?" Fergus was reclining on the bed, a thick leather-bound book in hand.

"Yes! Wait… how did you-"

She never got out the rest of her sentence over the sounds of Fergus laughing his fool head off.


	22. Chapter 21

**And now, the part you've all been waiting for, a good love scene. Sorry it took so long for me to get here, but I think the boys deserved the time it took them to get here. I really hope you enjoy this. This is not the end, but it's definitely resolving a lot of issues with the two at Vigil's Keep. My next task is to work on the issues in the Palace.**

**Kelcat, this is for **_**you**_**. I promised this chapter to you a long time ago and now I'm finally making good on it. You might need a sturdy ship to sail through all the sap, though. And thanks so much for your help, I never would have finished this without you.**

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Anders was enjoying his life.

Sort of.

"Anders, I don't understand why you're having such a problem with this!" Nathaniel sat on the bed, pulling on his boots while staring up at his irate mage.

"You don't understand?" Anders' expression was anguished. "That... _woman_," he hissed, "is trying to take you away from me!"

"Sigrun?" Nathaniel laughed, "You think Sigrun is trying to take me away from you?" He folded his arms over his chest. "Then let's talk about Velanna."

"What, why?"

"Haven't you noticed?" Nathaniel was almost laughing again.

"Nathaniel, what are you talking about?"

"Anders, she glares at me every time we're together, and haven't you heard her grumbling to herself about how I don't deserve to take care of a mage?" Nathaniel started packing things away for his archery lesson.

"Velanna has nothing to do with this!" Anders asserted. _How dare Nate do this to me. I thought after all this time he was different, he wouldn't throw me away._

"Anders, if you can't see it, I'm not pointing it out to you. But you do need to get out of my way, or I'm going to be late." Nathaniel said, sidestepping around his mage, before striding out the door.

Anders stared after his master miserably. _Fine. Just... fine. I don't need him anyhow._ He sniffled, tears pricking at his eyes, before he hurried off for the kitchens to find Tia or Henri.

"Anders, what's wrong?" Tia gave him a small hug before sitting him in front of the fire and rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"Nathaniel is throwing me away," he said in a small voice. "He's tired of me. Wants a real woman to warm his bed."

"Wherever did you get that idea?" she asked him, taking a seat as well. "He's smitten with you! He protected you from that templar, didn't he?"

"He found someone else, alright? Can't we just not talk about it?" he whined, before crossing his arms and pouting childishly.

"No, we can't just leave it alone. Have you seen him with this woman? Who is she?"

"They're together all the time now," he complained grumpily.

"Anders, if you don't tell me what's going on, I will skin you and use you as a doormat!" Tia slammed her hand down on the table.

Anders stared up at her in surprise. "I'm talking about Sigrun, of course. That dwarf can't keep her grubby hands off of my man."

Tia's mouth opened in a little 'o' of surprise. "Have you actually seen them together? I haven't seen anything."

"That's because you haven't been looking," Anders grumbled. "They're always together all the time. Like I said. She _touches_ him and he doesn't do anything to stop her. So it's obvious what they're doing."

Tia shook her head. "You should go look for him. You need to talk to him about this, Anders. You can't just sit and wallow."

"Sure I can," he responded. "It's not like I can do anything about it. I'm a _mage_. There's nothing I can do."

Tia threw up her hands in frustration. "Fine. Fine. Just give up and sit here and whine about it, because _that's_ helping."

He set his chin in his hands. "I know what you're trying to do. It won't work." When she didn't respond, he looked up. She'd skived off and left him alone. He felt the tears pricking his eyes again and he hunched in on himself, trying to stave off the feelings of loneliness.

When it was clear no one was going to come near him while he was sulking, he sighed and stood. The least he could do right now was to go and actually make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. Maybe Tia was right. Nate had seemed devoted to him up until now... maybe he really _was_ just imagining things...

He nodded firmly to himself and strode from the room. He was not going to let this get him down. He was a free man, dammit. He took his time getting to the practice yard and stopped in his tracks, staring at the sight in front of him, almost unable to breathe. That dwarven _bitch_ had her arms tight around Nathaniel's neck, drawing him down, her lips planted firmly against his. Her cheeks were stained with a blush and her eyes were closed. Nathaniel had his hands on her shoulders, and his eyes were open and staring at her. Anders didn't stick around a second longer. He tore out of there as if the Archdemon was on his heels, and didn't stop running until he'd returned to their room where he threw himself on the bed and sobbed uncontrollably.

* * *

Nathaniel enjoyed teaching Sigrun. She understood everything he meant when talking about the bow and it's feeling as another limb. He beamed with pride at yet another perfect shot from her and blinked in surprise when she drew him down in a hug. "Ah, Sigrun," he placed his hands on her shoulders, "this isn't appropriate. You know I have-" he was cut off when her lips touched his. He stood, shocked for a few moments. He didn't react until he felt her trying to deepen the kiss and then he shoved her away in disgust.

"What?" She looked at him like he'd struck her.

"You _know_ I have Anders, why did you do that?" He glared at her with unrestrained fury.

She snorted. "He doesn't deserve you. Doesn't understand you. You need someone by your side that doesn't depend on you for everything. You need someone a little softer, and more independent." She smirked at him with a raised eyebrow.

He held his hands out at strangling height and clenched them a few times before letting them drop again. "I'm going to go find my lover now," he said in a deadly quiet voice. "I want nothing further to do with you. And if you do _anything_ to hurt him again, I will kill you." then he turned on his heel and left her gaping at his back.

He heard the sobbing shortly before he came in sight of the room he shared with Anders. Fear for his lover clouded his mind and he rushed in, gathering his mage in his arms and making shushing noises to try and ease the pain he could hear. He was surprised when Anders stiffened in his arms and shoved him away.

His mage's gaze was dull and lifeless. "When are you getting rid of me?"

"What?" Nathaniel blinked. "Getting rid of you? Why would I do something like that?"

Anders clenched his teeth and Nate saw the other man's temple throb. "Then I am to assume I will be taking care of my new Mistress as well?"

"Anders, what in the Maker's cold underworld are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Anders hissed and Nate had to admit his love was extraordinarily attractive when he got riled up like this. "You kissed her! I saw you; you don't want me anymore so why are you keeping me?"

Nathaniel gaped and dread settled in his stomach like a load of arrowheads. "I didn't... you saw that?"

Anders looked as he were about to cry again. "Yes. I saw _that_. I know I wasn't supposed to, but I did, and now I'm leaving. I won't bow and scrape to that... that hussy!"

"Anders," Nate started laughing in relief, "you've got this all wrong. Not only did she kiss _me_ but I threatened her life should she ever do it again, or do anything to hurt you. You must believe me. I've never lied to you, and I've always done my best to protect you."

He could see Anders mulling over his words. "But I'm sure you want someone you can touch without having them flinch, or have nightmares or-"

He was tired of his mage talking, tired of listening to the man put himself down and demean his hardships, so he leaned in grabbing Anders' shoulders and cut the mage off with a kiss. Anders made a few muffled noises against his lips, but settled down after a moment and began to deepen it. Nathaniel buried a hand in his mage's hair, loosening the tie that held it up, and running his thumb along his beloved's stubbled jaw. He pulled back after a few moments, admiring the flush on Anders' face. "Anders," he began, "I love you." There. He said it. And the smile that bloomed on Anders' face was worth more to him than any title or family honor.

Anders beamed from ear to ear at him and then the smile slipped from his face and took on a speculative cast. "Prove it to me."

"What?"

"Prove it. That you love me." Anders was smirking deviously and advanced forward, causing Nate to lean back against the headboard.

Nathaniel sputtered. That was not how this was supposed to go. It was supposed to be a very romantic moment; he was going to seduce his mage into bed and keep him firmly focused in the present. "I..." He couldn't resist the earnest look on the other man's face, however, and he smiled and gave in. "Alright. Let me just get up and close the door. I don't want anyone to interrupt us. If they do, I'm liable to kill them."

Taking a deep breath for some self-control, he locked the door and made his way back over to the bed where Anders was currently shucking off his robes. Nathaniel admired the way the robes slid across Anders' skin exposing the creamy skin beneath. He groaned and closed his eyes for a moment. He _had_ to find a way to make this last.

"Anders," he said softly, "let me worship you?"

"What?"

"I want to show you how much I love you, and how better to do that than to worship your body in ways no one has ever treated you before?"

Anders blushed, all his shyness rushing back to him, "A- alright. But what about..." He trailed off, distracted by the rogue's sudden lack of clothes.

"Tonight is for you, Anders." Nate settled on the bed and stretched out on his side. "I want this to be what you remember. I want this night to be the best night of your life."

"You're going to have to compete with my first night here away from the Templar after my bath," Anders teased, rolling over on his side so that he could look Nate in the eyes.

"In that case, I'd better get started." Nathaniel sat up and gently pushed Anders onto his back and smiled gently at his nervous-again lover before running his fingertips over his mage's bare chest. Anders was still very scrawny but he could trace the outlines of muscles, watching them jump under his questing touch. He flicked his gaze back to Anders' face to see the mage staring at him with such trust it made his breath catch. He went back to mapping out Anders' torso, pressing his fingers a little more firmly into the muscles, lightly stroking his mage's nipples smiling to himself as they began to tighten and perk up.

He looked up again when he felt the blond man's hips shift. Anders had his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his eyes were half closed with sweat beading his forehead. The mage caught his stare and glowered. "You're going too slow."

Nathaniel let out a warm laugh before pulling Anders up into a hug and kissing him again. "There's no rush, love. We have all night."

He felt Anders snort into his ear. "I wanted you to show me you loved me, not torture me all night."

Nathaniel turned his face to nuzzle Anders' cheek as his fingers trailed down the blond mage's chest again. He paused at the other man's navel and then tentatively brushed his fingers over the head of his mage's shaft. Anders gasped, buried his face in Nate's shoulder and gripped at the rogue's back. Gently, Nate ran a finger along the underside and hearing Anders moan this time, he grew bolder, trailing more fingers until Anders was writhing in his lap. He then took a deep breath and curled his fingers around his lover, waiting for a response.

Anders bucked in his hand and his lips curled into a smile. Grasping a little firmer he leaned back to watch his lover's face as he began stroking in a slow measured rhythm. Anders had his eyes screwed shut and was chewing on his bottom lip again. He wanted, _needed_, to say something to keep Anders here and now. "You're beautiful." The first words on his mind and he laughed as his lover's eyes snapped open.

"Not... beautiful," he said between each panting breath, "handsome. I'm... handsome. Oh... Maker."

Nate smirked and sped up his rhythm, watching as Anders' eyes fluttered closed again and then he stopped. The mage's eyes flew open and he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out but an undignified squeak. Nate laughed warmly. "On your back." He shuffled backwards to give the other man some more room to lay down, and when he could comfortably rest his head on Anders' hip he stared, contemplating the organ in front of him.

"Nate?"

"Shhh. I'm thinking." He heard Anders giggle.

"Thinking? If you need help, I can sho-o-w... whoa..."

Nate shot him a _look_ and sat up a little, taking the head in his mouth and licking at the ridge underneath with the pad of his tongue. Getting used to the taste, he inched his mouth a little farther down, clamping his hands on Anders' hips to keep the mage from giving him a... crash course, so to speak.

He continued for a few minutes until he heard telltale hitching in the way Anders was breathing. He pulled back with a pop and grinned a little nervously. "Uh, love?"

"I... what?"

"I'm not entirely certain how to proceed from here."

Anders blinked rapidly. "I... alright. Um. Do we have any oil or grease? Anything slick should do... You're going to need to stretch me." His face was bright red by this point, and he seemed hesitant, almost as if he weren't sure he should be giving orders.

Nate thought for a moment before leaning over the foot of the bed and searching through the trunk, giving Anders a deliberate eyefull. When he found the vial he'd sought, he twisted back around. "This came with those... harem clothes that the tailor sent." He set the vial in his mage's outstretched hand.

Anders unstopped it and sniffed, before rolling a bit on his fingers and nodding. "It's good. I'm sure that's what he intended it for."

Nathaniel's face went red and he took the vial back and stared at it again before pouring some over his fingers. When he thought he had enough, he stoppered the vial and set it to the side where he could reach it later. "Anders, can you lift your legs over my shoulders? That ought to make this a bit easier."

Anders easily complied; thankful Nate wasn't going to force him on his hands and knees like some animal.

The rogue took a deep breath and ran an oil-slicked finger along Anders' entrance. The mage shuddered and relaxed a hair more. Nate took this as a good sign, and very gently pressed in his finger to the first knuckle. Anders shuddered and at his breathy groan of, "More," the noble went even further. Nate watched his lover's face for any sign of discomfort before gently thrusting his one finger in and out.

Anders shifted his hips a little, meeting the thrusts of his hand seeming to be seeking _more_. "Another, you can... put another in, Nate. Please." The look in his eyes told Nate he needed this.

"It won't hurt you?" Nate hesitated, but when Anders shook his head, he very gently added another finger and started the motions again. He brushed against a bump that caused Anders to moan and his breath to hitch, so he went for it again, this time with a gentle pressing motion. He smiled at the moan ripped from his lover's mouth.

"Nate, I... oh Maker. I need you." He sat up on his elbows a little and swallowed hard. "Please, Nate."

Nathaniel nodded, thoughts whirling a bit too fast for his taste and he pulled his fingers out, gently. "Do I...?" He looked over at the oil.

"Yes."

He nodded and pulled open the vial again, covering his erection in what he hoped was enough to keep this from hurting his mage. He leaned over for a kiss, nibbling at his lover's lips and reassuring him that he was here and would never let something terrible happen again. He shifted his hips, still kissing, and settled there until a whimper against his lips urged him forward. He took it slow until he was buried to the hilt. He groaned and nearly fell forward, pulling away from the kiss and resting his head on Anders' shoulder. No woman he'd been with had ever felt this tight or hot around him and the feeling only grew better as he pulled back a little clumsy and then pressed forward again.

He wasn't going to rush this feeling, though he could feel Anders encouraging him to go faster. They rocked together, for how long he couldn't tell, until he felt confident enough to pull himself upward and increase his speed. He watched Anders tossing his head from side to side and digging his hands into the covers. With a chuckle, he let go of the other man's hip with his right hand and started palming the mage's erection again. He watched as Anders's breath hitched, heard the man moaning his name, and could feel himself driven closer and closer to the edge.

After what he was sure was eternity, he finally drove his mage over the edge. The muscles surrounding him tightened in waves and his hand was slicked with the evidence of release. He followed shortly after as the tension within him snapped, and he cried out Anders' name before slumping bonelessly forward.

After a moment to recover, Nate flopped onto his back, breathing heavily, and pulled Anders close so the mage could curl into his side, ignoring the stickiness between them. "Now do you believe me?"

Anders let out a breathy laugh. "You play dirty, but yes, I believe you. Nate, I-" A crashing sound from the courtyard echoed up through their window and cut Anders off midsentence. A scream followed the crash and the lovers looked at each other before hurrying to the window to look below them. Anders let out a strangled gasp and backed away from the window like it had bit him. Nate stood there a moment longer before he realized what had scared Anders so badly. A phalanx of Templars was moving through the courtyard and leading them was Rylock.


	23. Chapter 22

**Sorry about that, I'm quite evil, yes? This is going to be an interesting chapter I can assure you. Full of new things for me. Fight scenes! As usual I don't own the boys and if you think I do, then you're quite mad.**

* * *

Nathaniel immediately crossed the room and wrapped Anders in a loving embrace. "Shh. I won't let her get to you. She can't hurt you anymore. I promise."

Anders whimpered at the feeling of his mana draining away. "So many Templars. Nate... I can't feel my magic. I feel cut off again." He felt Nate's fingers running through his hair, and even through the emptiness, he felt something stirring. He opened his mouth to speak, but the door crashed open, and Thomais stood in the doorway dressed in tight fitting leathers with the Grey Warden symbol embossed on the chest piece.

"Anders," he barked. "I want you to get to the kitchen and lock yourself in there! These are all Templars that Alistair sent to Aeonar and you need to stay _safe_ especially with Rylock out there." The commander was _livid_. His face was tense with barely controlled anger. He should have guessed that _woman_ would have the gall to attack him in his own home to come after one of _his_ soldiers.

That stirring Anders had felt hardened into resolve. "I'm _not_ going to hide. I _can't_ hide anymore. If I don't try and stand up for myself then people are just going to keep taking advantage of me. I'm sorry Commander, I can't do as you ask." Anders stood up, before remembering that he was still naked, with a squawk of embarrassment he snatched a sheet off of the bed to wrap around his and Nate's waists.

Thomais rolled his eyes before gazing into the mage's for a minute before nodding approvingly. "Fine. Get into some armor and stay in the Keep. I want you to set traps, shoot them and make sure they don't leave the Keep alive. I need all the support I can get." Then he turned on his heel and jogged from the room.

Nathaniel gave his mage a fierce hug before he smiled and said, "Come on. I'll help you." The two of them hurriedly dressed in the under tunics that would protect them from the bite of the leathers before hurrying to the armory to suit up and grab their weapons.

"You remember how to aim with these, right?" Nathaniel asked as he handed his lover a crossbow.

Anders nodded and took a deep breath. "Do you still have what you need to make traps with? We can give any templars that have the nerve to come into _our_ home a nasty surprise."

Nate grinned. "Even if I don't, there's plenty of metal in here for me to figure something out." He then pulled a vial from his pocket. "Here, dip the tips of your bolts in this. It'll make it easier to make sure they stay down when they're hit."

Meanwhile Thomais headed down to the courtyard, bellowing orders at his soldiers and watching with satisfaction as Zevran and Sigrun moved, ghostlike, between the Templars picking them off one by one with poisoned blades. He could barely see them himself, so he knew the templars couldn't, especially with their helmets obstructing their vision. He smiled grimly as Oghren smashed his way through their ranks, wielding his axe with professional grace. He watched Oghren for a few moments, surprised at how much finesse was actually involved in wielding a weapon that size. _I need to pay more attention,_ he thought grimly as he caught sight of a templar making a break for it.

He rushed into the battle and engaged the templar headed for the door. The rogue saw the templar's eyes widen behind the slits of his helmet, and the other man roared something incoherent and raised his heavy sword. Thomais grinned and danced backwards, parrying the heavy blow that would have sliced him in two. He had missed this, fighting a thinking and reasoning opponent, rather that the hive-like darkspawn.

"A bit slow?" he panted, taunting his opponent.

The templar roared again, and Thomais raised an eyebrow, because surely all that yelling did, was echo and rattle around in that silly looking helmet.

The Templar's recovery time _was_ slow, far slower than usual and Thomais pressed his advantage, stepping lightly around to slash and stab at the unprotected backsides of his opponent's knees. The templar let loose a cry of pain and staggered to his knees, still flailing with his sword and trying to turn and face the elf again. Thomais didn't hesitate; he pulled a dagger from his belt and drove it into the templar's neck in the space between the helmet and the neck guard. Breathing heavily, Thomais saluted his fallen opponent, and dashed back into the fray, stabbing another man in the armpit who was raising his sword against Oghren from behind.

"Bout time you got here!" the dwarf grunted as he crunched through another man's armor.

"I was distracted." Thomais said lightly.

"Did you warn Sparklefingers?"

"That was the distraction, yes."

"How'd he take the order to hide?" Oghren split a templar up the middle with an underhand swing of his axe.

"Not very well." Thomais parried another strike and struck the templar's helmet with the pommel of his dagger, before driving the point into the man's eye. "He's got more of a backbone than we gave him credit for."

Oghren grunted. "Good. I can't wait to see the boy fight again."

Thomais grinned wickedly. "Neither can I."

Inevitably, some templars made it past the gate and into the rest of the Keep. Nathaniel, Anders, and a few other soldiers were ready for them, however. Down a rather long and narrow hallway, a variety of traps had been set. Whenever these traps were stumbled into, Anders and Nathaniel would step out from around the corner at the end and riddle the offending templar with crossbow bolts, then they would flee to another room, and another corridor.

After hours of leading the templars on a chase around the keep, they heard a ragged cheer from the courtyard and peered out of a window. The templars outside had been slain, and Anders could feel his magic returning, filling him up like an empty pitcher. He smiled at Nate, sweat dripping from his face. "I did well then?" He asked, looking foolishly like a puppy begging for attention.

Nate laughed and gave him a hug. "Yes, Anders. You did well. Those that fled will think twice about coming after _you_ again. They may just go and become cloistered monks at a temple somewhere in Orlais."

Anders laughed as well. "Well, let's go see what we can do to help, shall we?"

The next few hours were spent disposing of the dead and dying, while Nathaniel spent his time dismantling all of the traps he'd set around the Keep. Velanna and Anders were relegated to healing duties, doing the best they could for all of the soldiers hurt by the templars.

Anders was in the middle of healing a broken leg when Thomais stepped up to him, eyes grave and expression far too serious.

"We couldn't find her."

"Couldn't find who?" Anders asked, even though he knew the answer to the question. Fear settled his gut like a block of ice.

"Rylock." Thomais sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I'll send a messenger to Alistair. He'll need to keep an eye out. Since her plan here failed, you know that's where she'll head."

Anders nodded, and moved on to the next injured man. "She'll have a harder time of it there than she did here. He has all those royal guards, after all."

Thomais nodded. "It will be fine, Anders. She'll get hers, you'll see."


	24. I'm Sorry

I need to apologise. My life has been taking drastic twisty turns over the last year or so. I thought everything was going to be fine when the new year started.

I was wrong. My father passed away on November tenth and I can't continue these stories. They hold too much of my past with him within them and it hurts too much to continue.

I'm so sorry, guys. I'll still be drabbling and one-shotting. I just... can't keep going here.


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